


Beneath Their Masks: Pirate's Life

by Mazanica



Series: Beneath Their Masks [4]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Abuse and neglect, And all types of abuse are in this story okay, Anthro AU, But otherwise it's full of cliches, Cliches like the unpopular kid is rich and the popular characters fall for the unpopular characters, Depression, F/F, Friendship, Future themes of violence, Hinted noncon, Hurt/Comfort/Angst, Like there's no heterosexuals at all in here, M/M, Maybe hints of Mike/Jeremy, Original/Toys, Other, Romance, Suicidal thoughts/themes, This story has a really dark part, Transgender Agender Mangle, Yaoi and Yuri, explicit noncon, highschool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:42:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6629932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazanica/pseuds/Mazanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Companion Piece, Foxy and Mangle's side.</p><p>--</p><p>"Foxy" Jones was the son of a successful businesswoman and a successful supermodel. He loved his mothers as much as they loved him; the only people who came even close to his parents were his friends. In science, he is partnered with the strange, aloof "Mangle" Blanc, someone he has never spoken to nor ever liked. Something doesn't seem right here, and at first Foxy is determined to not get involved, but as his friends' connections with their own partners grow, so does his- and so does his concern. Realizing that nothing is alright, he strives to become someone that Mangle can trust.</p><p>Mangle wasn't like their classmates and they were just fine with that. There were people who loved them just the way they were and those people gave them a reason to hang on. However, when Dr. Schmidt assigns them to be partners with "Foxy" Jones, they find themself slowly being drawn out of their shell and out of their dream world, being given a chance to have something more. But it's frightening, being pulled into reality by someone you don't even know- someone you've hated your entire life. And becoming friends with the people pulling your life apart was even scarier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to Beneath Their Masks: Pirate’s Life! If you’re looking at this, well, I can honestly say I’m surprised but pleased. This is a Companion Fic to Behind Their Masks: The Golden Rule, Guitar Strings, Lyrical Harmony, and Half-Baked!
> 
> These fics are all the same “story” told from the perspective of different couples and, in case you failed to notice, these are all GoldenSpring and Original/Toy, but the pairings are most evident in their own fics. It’ll be a while until any pairings happen, though; first they all need to become friends.
> 
> Warnings: RATED M FOR FUTURE THEMES. Homosexuality, bullying, cliques, transgender issues (DMAB-Agender Mangle), sexual themes, sexual abuse & rape, physical, emotional, mental abuse, parental neglect, severe depression and suicidal themes/attempted suicide, chronic nightmares and night terrors, this story will get very dark at one point.
> 
> Pairings: Foxy/Funtime Foxy (Mangle), Chica/Toy Chica (Chii), Goldie/Spring, Bonnie/Toy Bonnie (Blu), Freddy/Toy Freddy (Alfred)
> 
> Disclaimer: I own none of the characters!

The room was dark and they could clearly smell blood but still they didn’t move. It hurt to move. Every bone in their body was screaming at them to just _stay here on the floor_ and let themself bleed out. Just lying there, curled in on themself and pretending that what had just happened hadn’t, in fact, just happened sounded good. Just letting themself bleed out onto their bedroom floor… that sounded just as good.  
  
An image flashed through their mind, though. A blue rabbit, face twisted in horror and grief with dark mascara-stained tears trailing down his cheeks. A golden rabbit, head ducked and tugging on his ears, blocking his face from view. A yellow chicken, crumpled on the floor and sobbing, her feathery hands over her face. A brown bear, his normally neutral expression morphed into a look of grief, tears barely being held back as he stared straight ahead, eyes wide.  
  
They had seen those expressions before- not aimed at them, never at them- and had even worn a similar one on a November night, almost a year ago now. It hurt, thinking about being the one to put those expressions there instead, to be the one who cut their friends so deeply and utterly and never having a chance to fix it. Their stomach twisted and their head throbbed and their heart beat much too fast. They knew they couldn’t let themself die. Their friends needed them.  
  
With that, they uncurled themself and pushed themself up off of the floor, groaning and looking up towards their window. It was pitch black outside the window, not even the moonlight penetrating the thick canopy above their house. Slowly dragging themself to their feet, the white fox limped over to the bedroom door and carefully opened it, peeking outside.  
  
The hallway, just as dark as their room, was empty. They quietly made their way down the hall, keeping to the wall for both support and to avoid the squeaky centers. From down the stairs they could hear their parents talking, but they ignored it in favour of carefully slipping into the bathroom, not wanting to know how much money they had made off of their child's agony. Clicking the lock into place, they switched the light on and looked in the mirror.  
  
They were a mess. Their fur, normally so neat and meticulous, stuck up in every way possible and the sweat had locked it into place, making it look stiff and grimy. Their eyes were red from crying and there was a forming bruise at the base of their throat, just above the ripped collar of their shirt. They didn’t look down at themself, though; they already knew they were bleeding. Tonight hadn’t been easy for them.  
  
Carefully stripping the shirt away, every movement sending pain coursing through them, they stepped into the shower and turned the taps on, letting the freezing liquid wash over them and slowly turn scalding hot. It felt good on their body- it meant they could still feel, they were still alive. It washed away the sweat, the grime, the blood, and with it they forced away the feeling of disgust, imagining it flowing down the drain. They had done this a million times before, they only had to survive for so much longer.  
  
Their eyes slowly slid over to the razor they kept in the bathroom. Being a fox, they didn’t actually _need_ a razor- furry creatures don’t shave, after all- but the old, dulled blade wasn’t meant for shaving. It had been there for four years, sitting oh so innocently on the shower’s shelf, unneeded and unused for at least two. They wondered if it would bring the same comfort it once had, but that image of their friends flashed through their mind again and they knew they couldn’t, so they looked away from it, bowing their head under the shower’s spray.   
  
It was ten minutes before they moved, grabbing the soap and scrubbing it into their fur. The aches were fading already. They would be back, oh the fox knew that all too well, but they’d survive.  
  
“Just gotta soldier through, Mangle old pal,” they whispered to themself, their soft voice drowned out by the sound of rushing water. After rinsing off, they climbed out of the shower and padded back to their room, leaving their ruined shirt on the tiled floor. Slipping in, the white and pink fox turned the lock and went to their closet to pull out baggy sweats and a loose tank top to sleep in. A glance at the clock showed that it was nearly one in the morning; none of their friends would be awake, but they should leave a message for them to find in the morning so they knew the fox was alright.  
  
So Mangle grabbed their phone as they climbed onto their bed, settling down on the uncomfortable, old mattress and pulled up their Whatsapp. A few taps on the phone and the message was sent. With a deep sigh, they dropped the phone onto the bed next to them and stared out into the darkness of their room. It still smelt of blood, sweat and fear. It still smelt of old betrayal and new hatred. It still smelt of guilt and disgust and pain and resignation. It smelt of acceptance.  
  
 _I want to be anywhere else right now_ , Mangle thought to themself. They didn’t close their eyes, though; still they stared up at the ceiling, sleep far from their minds. They imagined, though, that their friends were there. No- that they were somewhere else, somewhere better, together.  
  
Mangle found themself in a music-art studio. On one half was a little stage where two guitars rested on stands and a drumset waited to be played with a keyboard right across the stage from it. Five microphones were on stage as well. Sitting on that stage was a brown bear, violin in hand. He looked up at Mangle and gave them a small smile and a nod in greeting.  
  
Mangle smiled back and waved before turning towards the easel facing the stage. A golden rabbit stood by it, sticks of chalk in his hands and a big blue spot on his cheek. A blue rabbit stood next to him, holding the matching blue stick. They were laughing together and looked to Mangle, their large, carefree smiles making the fox feel warm inside. They hadn't seen those smiles in over a year.  
  
A chicken came into the room, a large vanilla cake in hand. All of them let out a cheer, dropping what was in their hands- the bear setting his down carefully, of course- and hurrying over to enjoy the cake. Mangle found themself following, laughing as they realized they had a camera around their neck and in their hands, snapping a picture of the moment.  
  
“It looks great, Chii!” the friends all chorused, the echoing quality of the voices not fazing the fox, and the chicken blushed, pleased by the compliment.  
  
“Thanks, guys!” she laughed, setting the cake down on a table and cutting it into perfect slices for each of them, handing them out around the table with simple, white plastic forks.  
  
They all settled down together, digging into the delicious treat, and Mangle laughed and smiled with them, their pain and grief and fear forgotten for now. They focused on their friends, their carefree smiling faces, their delighted laughs, their jokes and the way their eyes lit up the room around them. The way everything was alright.  
  
In the real world, the white fox smiled and finally closed their eyes.

* * *

The red fox tossed the ball in the air a few more times, frowning in thought. He had just gotten off of the phone with one of his best friends and their conversation hadn’t been… well, it wasn’t sad but it definitely didn’t make him happy.  
  
Tomorrow was the start of the end of their childhood. Technically, he supposed, it ended when they entered their teens. More responsibilities. Now, though, now they were actually turning into _adults._  
  
 _Seniors,_ he thought in silent amazement, catching the ball one last time with a frown. “Seniors,” he repeated aloud. A spark of excitement lit up in his chest, but was he really happy about that? _The last year we’ll be together. But we’ll be back for holidays and weekends and summers… we’ll always be friends. So why am I so nervous?_  
  
With a sigh, the fox fell backwards on his bed, staring up at his night-sky themed ceiling. The stars, which were glow-in-the-dark of course, stared back at him. Something was eating at him and he wasn’t sure what it was.  
  
 _I should call Bonnie and Freddy and Goldie_ , he told himself, lifting his phone up again. He brought his contacts up and hit the first one of his friends that came up; Bonnie. He took a moment to laugh at the picture of the purple rabbit blocking his face out with a certain rude gesture; he never did like having cameras shoved in his face.  
  
It took only a moment for the rabbit to answer. “Dammit, Foxy, I’m in the middle of that essay,” Bonnie told him, a frown in his voice. Foxy couldn’t help but laugh; leave it to Bonnie to wait until the last minute to write a summer essay.  
  
“Sorry, Bonnie-lad!” he apologized, though he wasn’t really sorry. “But Freddy ‘nd I did tell ya to do it earlier this summer.”  
  
“How was I supposed to know it’d take me three weeks to read that stupid book?” Bonnie complained with a sigh. “Besides, Goldie still hasn’t started his and it’s almost eleven.”  
  
“Little late, mate, he did his two weeks ago,” Foxy informed the rabbit, snickering and sitting up in bed. “He read the book in two days flat- even with us distractin’ him.”  
  
“Wait- Goldie’s already done it?” Bonnie asked, sounding confused, and Foxy burst out laughing. Foxy heard the sound of Bonnie’s face meeting his desk. “And lemme guess- Chica did hers when you and Freddy did yours.”  
  
“Yep,” Foxy confirmed. “We invited you and Goldie, ya know, but y’all two decided a jam session sounded better,” he added, chuckling.  
  
“Fuck you,” was the rabbit’s simple response.  
  
Foxy cackled and said, “Sorry, lad, you’re like a brother to me.”  
  
“Jerk,” the rabbit snorted. “So, Foxy, how’s your mom and mama?”  
  
“They’re fine,” Foxy answered, tossing his ball in the air again. “Mama’s in England right now for a shoot but she called today. Kind’a amazin’, ya know, since it was like midnight there when she did. Mom’s put in for vacation for Christmas already. They said you guys can come with us, by the way- we’re goin’ to New York to watch the ball drop.”  
  
“Sounds fun,” Bonnie chuckled. “I’ll ask ma about it, no promises.”  
  
That reminded Foxy of something, and his eyes trailed to the calendar by his bedroom door. August seventh. _It’s been two months now. Wow, time flies_. “How’d the lass doin’?” he asked, frowning. “I know things have been tough for her since Jimmy passed.”  
  
Bonnie was silent for a second or two before answering, “She’s doing well enough. She’s back to work now that everything’s settled with the will and family and all, but she’s pretty lonely now. Dad told me he thinks she should start dating again, but I don’t think she’s ready.”  
  
“Two months ain’t enough time,” Foxy agreed with a sharp frown. How could Bonnie’s father expect the lady to move on two months after her husband’s death? He may have moved on a week after the divorce but not everyone could let go that easily. Foxy knew he himself would probably never get over someone he loved as deeply as Bonnie’s mother loved his step-father. “But it’s good she’s back to work, surprised they let her stay out this long.”  
  
“Well when you’re one of the higher-ups you get away with a lot of stuff,” Bonnie pointed out with a small laugh, though it didn’t sound as happy as Foxy was sure he meant it to. “She- oh, wait, hold up, getting another call.”  
  
“‘Kay,” Foxy voiced, waiting as Bonnie switched to the other call. He hummed to himself, hitting the ball against the wall and catching it as it bounced back. He repeated this a few times, knowing there was no one home to disturb as his mom was currently at work. Even if it was eleven o’clock.  
  
After a few minutes, Bonnie’s voice returned, laughing. “What was it?” Foxy asked curiously, wondering what was making the rabbit laugh.  
  
“Freddy was just askin’ if I knew where Goldie was and told me to give you his love,” Bonnie informed him, his voice sickeningly sweet.  
  
“Aww, how sweet,” Foxy drawled with a small grin. “I always knew that bear liked me best!”  
  
“Oh no, I’m still his favourite,” Bonnie declared mock-haughtily. “Always have been, always will be.”  
  
Despite the rabbit not being there to see him, Foxy drew his brows together, put his free hand under his chin, and stared up at the ceiling as though in thought. “Hmmm, naahhhh,” he finally decided.  
  
“So Freddy says he’ll ask his parents about Christmas, but really, they probably won’t mind,” Bonnie informed him, changing the subject. Foxy guessed he didn’t need to call the Fazbear brothers now. “I mean we went to France last year, New York is a hop, skip, and a jump away.”  
  
Foxy laughed and said, “True! But ya know how parents can be.” He stretched a bit and let out a silent yawn, pulling the phone away from his ear so the rabbit didn’t catch it. _Damn, I’m really tired. Best to end this_ _call_. “I’ll let ya get back to your essay now. Good luck!”  
  
“Thanks, Foxy,” Bonnie laughed before hanging up. Foxy exited out of the call and dropped his phone on the pillow next to him and settled back down, closing his eyes. It was peaceful and quiet in his room and the only light came from the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling.   
  
As he drifted off to sleep, it was peaceful and quiet and and he was content. Unknown to him, in a house in the woods outside of the city, another fox was going through hell and dreaming of being anywhere else.


	2. Beginning of a Long Year, Foxy

“Drew, are you awake, sweetie?”  
  
The red fox let out a strange sound that was a mix between a whine and a growl, turning over in bed to face away from the door.   
  
“Drew, get your fluffy tail out of bed and come eat breakfast, I did not wake up at five thirty in the morning to prepare you a full breakfast just so you leave it to get cold and be late to school!”  
  
 _School… Oh yeah. Dammit…_ “I’m up,” he whined, pushing himself into a sitting position and stretching as he looked at his clock. It was just past six thirty, meaning he had at least forty-five minutes before Freddy and Goldie would come pick him up. Plenty of time to take a quick shower, minimally-dry his fur, and eat breakfast.  
  
Not in that order, of course.  
  
“Good. Eliza will be calling later, sweetie, before you leave for school. Oh how time flies, a senior…” The lady’s voice faded as she walked down the hall away from Foxy’s door, and Foxy gave a fond roll of his eyes. He slipped out of his warm bed and padded over to the door, slipping out and heading towards the bathroom to take care of his business before joining his mother downstairs.  
  
When he did get downstairs, his mouth began watering; sausage and bacon, toast, an omelette, maple syrup, and a glass of orange juice. _I fuckin’ love omelettes!_ “You’re the best, mom, thanks!” he called to the kitchen where he could hear his overworked but over-loving mother cleaning. Normally he’d do the after-meal cleanup, but he was on a schedule now.  
  
“You’re welcome, Drew!”  
  
Foxy smiled and dropped down into his seat where he promptly poured maple syrup on his omelette and began eating, tail flicking happily. _A good breakfast to start a good day! Mmm…_  
  
He hummed contentedly as he finished his plate, then he got up and took his dishes to the kitchen. His mother, a pure-white arctic fox, took them from him before he could do anything and she silenced his protests with a simple, “Go take your shower, you overslept again.”  
  
Foxy just shrugged. There was no arguing with Felicia Jones, after all. With that, he said, “Thanks again, mom, it was awesome!” before turning around and rushing upstairs to grab a change of clothes and get his shower.  
  
Unlike most of his friends, Foxy didn’t use shower time to reflect or dawdle. He didn’t sing, he didn’t relax, nothing like that. No, that was what _baths_ were for, so when he turned the water on and stepped in, he immediately got to work on sufficiently soaking his fur and scrubbing the shampoo-soap into it. Therefore, it took him less than ten minutes to shower and jump out, towel-drying his fur and following up with a brief blow-dry and brush. His fur was still damp as he dressed but that was alright, he’d survive. He wasn’t like Freddy, needing his fur to be absolutely perfectly dry, but he also wasn’t like Goldie, willing to walk out into the elements with soaked fur.  
  
“Drew, Eliza’s calling!”  
  
“Foxy,” he muttered to himself before dashing out of the bathroom and down the stairs. He (politely, of course) took the phone from his mother. “Mama!” he greeted happily.  
  
“Hey, Foxy hun,” the lady on the other side greeted happily. A quick calculation put the time where she was around noon. “So today’s a big day for you! First day of senior year, how about that?”  
  
“Ah, ya know, it’s just like every other year… except senior trip!” he cheered, sharing a grin with Mrs. F Jones. “I can’t wait to know where we’re goin’!”  
  
“Well, that’s not until April,” Eliza Jones laughed from the other end. “You have at least eight months until then, but there’s still New York this New Years! Did you invite your friends?”  
  
“Yeah, they said they’ll talk to their parents about it when they can.”  
  
“Well if their parents would like to come to, the more the merrier,” Mrs. E Jones told him and Foxy could practically hear the smile in her voice. “Make it like our Japan trip three years ago!”  
  
“Awesome, I’ll be sure to tell them today when I see them!” Foxy said excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He loved how close his and his friends’ families were; full-fledged family vacations. It was almost like having more than two parents, almost like having siblings. It was fun and filled with hilarious disasters and love and care- all the things that defined family in Foxy’s eyes.  
  
“You do that. Oh- sweetie, I gotta go, Mr. Gyles wants to continue the shoot now. Have a great first day of school and I’ll call you later, you’ll need to tell me all about it. And remember, there’s always room for more!”  
  
Foxy rolled his eyes at that last statement. Room for more what? He had everything he needed already; two loving mothers, four amazing friends, and three other amazing families who may as well have been his too. “I know. Love you, mama!”  
  
“Love you too, and tell Felicia I can’t wait to see her next week!”  
  
“Right! Goodbye and good luck!” Foxy hung up the phone. “Mama says she can’t wait to see you but Mr. Gyles wants to continue the shoot,” he told his mother as he handed the phone back.  
  
“Of course,” Mrs. F Jones laughed, shaking her head and setting the phone in its cradle. “Go on, now, get your stuff and put your shoes on, your friends will be here any minute now.”  
  
“Right-o, mom!”

* * *

Walking into third period was like walking into a good dream that was ruined because of one face you spot in a crowd of friends. Only for him it was five faces, laughing about something that was probably incredibly stupid.  
  
He ignored the laughing friends as he dropped down in the desk to the left of Bonnie, turning around to look at the bear brothers behind him and the chicken in the desk next to them.  
  
“Relax,” Freddy was saying. “It won’t be so bad.”  
  
“Yeah, I think art’ll be an easy A. But damn, gym- that teacher was rude as hell,” Goldie complained with a frown. “That warm-up is brutal and the teacher didn’t even care that a kid started having an asthma attack? Like geez, poor kid could’ve died.”  
  
Foxy frowned as he thought about their gym class. He didn’t know the other involved students’ names- he thought one of them was Zeke something-or-other but he wasn’t sure- but the gym teacher had forced them even on the first day to go through a warm up and one kid in class began having trouble breathing. The teacher had claimed that “excuses like that don’t work, I need a doctor’s note to let you leave” and refused to let the student go to the nurse or to their bag in the locker room.  
  
Needless to say, things quickly got out of hand and, in the end, Zeke-maybe-it-was-Bryan grabbed his friend and walked out and potentially saved his friend’s life, and that gym teacher would probably end up fired… and it was only the first day of school.  
  
“Well, at least his friend was willing to just walk out with him, a good friend to have,” Freddy was saying. “I wonder what goes on in this class.”  
  
Well that was certainly a subject changer and Foxy almost mentioned it, but he chose to instead look at the board. _Advanced Senior Science_. Yeah, what _did_ that mean…  
  
“Who knows,” the rabbit beside him said. “That definitely isn’t chemistry.”  
  
“Looks like chemistry will be part of it, though,” Chica finally said. Blinking, Foxy turned to look at her and followed her gaze to the lab stations in the back. True to her words, there was chemistry setups on each station.  
  
The bear twins turned back to look at them as Bonnie said, “Yeah. So who’s gonna be whose partner this year?”  
  
Foxy almost laughed at that and shared an amused grin with Chica as Freddy answered, “Whoever you want. It’s not like I’ll be choosin’, ya know.”  
  
“I call dibs on Freddy,” Goldie jokingly claimed, grinning as Foxy and the others burst out laughing. There was never any question about who Freddy and Goldie would be partnering with, after all. “But hey,” Goldie continued once they had calmed down, looking around the room, “looks like the other people in class are… uh… people none of us get along with… huh.”  
  
Foxy turned to look around the room, frowning as he realized Goldie was right. There was literally _no one_ else in the classroom that they got along with or could claim to be friends with.  
  
There were the five “unpopular” students, though unpopular didn’t even really _begin_ to describe them. Unpopular people were on the bottom rungs of the social ladder; these guys weren’t even _on_ the ladder. They had all leapt right off of it sometime during elementary or middle school, a while before anyone else even realized there was a ladder at all. They were so separated and disinterested in everything around them, they only ever focused on each other. The most they did that showed awareness of their surroundings was they spoke quietly and always stayed separate from the rest of the student body; they hardly ever even looked around and when they did they instantly began whispering to each other, and by the lack of snickering and giggling it was clearly _not_ a gossip ring. They were so separate from the rest of the school that the school bullies wouldn’t even approach them and no rumours could be made about them. The only time there had been a rumour about any of them and someone finally got their attention long enough to ask them about it, they hadn’t even realized there was a rumour in the _first_ place.  
  
And then they said and did nothing to prove or disprove it.  
  
With a small scowl, Foxy’s gaze moved on towards the humans in the class. One of them, dressed in all black, gazed silently out the window; he hated the Fazcrew’s guts. The other three were all girls; two of them were whispering and giggling together. They also highly disliked Foxy and his friends, calling them bullies even though Foxy was sure they had never _bullied_ anyone. The third girl was as silent as the boy, but she was writing instead of gazing into the sky. She hated Foxy in particular- something about something he did in middle school, though he wasn’t sure just _what_ he did.  
  
 _So, yeah. We’re screwed._  
  
“Alright then, settle down class,” an unfamiliar voice cut through his thoughts and he turned in his seat to look towards the speaker. He blinked as his gaze landed on green hair and excited blue eyes; who was this? “I am Doctor Mike Schmidt and this year I am your science teacher,” the man said and Foxy grinned slightly. _This is our teacher? Brilliant_! “This year, things will be different.”  
  
 _Different… how?_ Foxy wondered, frowning up at his teacher. _It’s a weird amalgamation of science classes, right? Yeah, I’d say that’s different._  
  
“In the past,” Dr. Schmidt continued, “I know you have always been allowed to choose your own partners, but in my experience I’ve found there is a lot less messing around and procrastination when partners are assigned.” He exchanged a glance with Bonnie, frowning. He could see where this was going. “So this year, I will be assigning your partners.”  
  
 _Yep._  
  
Well yeah, that _was_ different. He frowned; at least one of them would be with someone they either hated or who hated them. _Nice, Dr. Schmidt. Real nice._  
  
“I have already assigned everyone their partners and you cannot switch out partners.” _Cool, you know how to torture teens._ “I have partnered everyone up for specific reasons, and this is the partner you will have all year long.” _Yep, you’re a torture master, aren’t’cha doctor? I got’cha figured out._ “You will sit beside each other in the classroom, when we are in the lab you will work together at your station, and you will be expected to work outside of the classroom as well.” _No duh, three days a week for fifty minutes each ain’t enough time to get all this shit done._  
  
Foxy’s frown deepened and he glanced at the rabbit beside him again as he shifted in his seat, then turned his gaze back to Dr. Schmidt. The man had picked up a clipboard and made a few marks on the page.  
  
“Alright. Gather your stuff, everyone. And stand back near the lab stations. You can choose your own seats, but you must be sitting next to your partner.” Slowly, Foxy got up from his seat and moved to follow his friends, his black bag hitched up on his shoulder. He stood a bit in front of Freddy, eyes trained on their pacing teacher. Abruptly, Dr. Schmidt stopped pacing and whirled around to look at them with a large smile on his face. “Alright now! First, Bonito Rodriguez and Bonnie Henderson.”  
  
Both rabbits hissed and Foxy frowned towards Bonnie in sympathy, though the rabbit’s gaze was focused now on the glaring blue rabbit. He watched the two of them approach the desks Bonnie and himself had occupied less than five minutes before, Bonnie taking the seat on the left rather than the right.   
  
Foxy smirked.  
  
“Marion Marshal and Malesha Jacks.”   
  
The two silent humans chose the back seats next to the window but Foxy paid them no mind.  
  
“Freddy Fazbear and Alfred Fischbach.” Neither bear said anything or gave any complaint, though Fischbach lagged before following Freddy to the seats two rows behind the rabbits. Foxy knew why that gap was left for; it was reserved for Freddy’s brother. “Vivien Blanc and Drew Jones.” He didn’t recognize the first name, to be honest, but the last name clued him in to who his partner was and he growled, glaring towards the white and pink fox before stalking over to the middle-row desks, beside the gap Freddy had left for Goldie.  
  
O _f fucking course I’d get stuck with Blanc. And_ Vivien _? I guess Blanc really is a girl after all._  
  
He dropped down in his seat and barely glanced aside as Blanc sat down in the seat next to him, their yellow eyes trained on the wall. They didn’t acknowledge Foxy; _good_.   
  
“Leah Stuart and Jackie James.”  
  
 _I hope for Goldie and Chica’s sakes they get each other,_ he thought as he watched the two friends claim the front-row seat beside the window.  
  
His hopes were quickly dashed as Dr. Schmidt said, “Frederick Fazbear and Spring Salvage.”  
  
He sighed and watched the golden bear sit down next to him, the rabbit sitting down much more hesitantly on his other side. It briefly occurred to him that, with Blanc on his left, it was the most separated and disjointed he had ever seen the smaller Animals.  
  
“Francisca Sanchez and Charlotte Kain,” Dr. Schmidt finished, though the chickens were already taking a seat in front of them. Foxy noticed the white fox next to him seemed to relax. He hadn’t even realized they were tense.  
  
In front of him, Bonnie leaned over to Chica and whispered, “This blows.” He silently agreed.  
  
“Mr. Rodriguez, turn around please.” Even though it was directed at the blue rabbit, Bonnie still straightened up, not wanting to get called out as well. “Now, I know all of you know each other,” Foxy almost snorted right along with Goldie, “but this is my first year at this school and I don’t know any of you.” _Obviously_. “So, I want all of you to fill out this questionnaire about your partner, which you will then read aloud to the class.” _Brilliant, get to know the idiot next to you!_  
  
Foxy obediently took the paper from Chica and looked down at the page, disinterested. He honestly had no interest in knowing any of this.  
  
 _My New Lab Partner!_  
  
 _Name:_  
 _Nickname(s):_  
 _DOB:_  
 _Places You’ve Lived:_  
 _Future Plans:_  
 _Interests/Hobbies:_  
 _Favourite Colour:_  
 _Favourite Band/Musician:_  
 _Phone #_  
 _Cell:_  
 _Landline:_  
  
It was standard but it still irritated him. He wrote down the name Vivian Blanc.  
  
“It’s I-E-N,” a voice snarled from next to him. He wouldn’t admit that it actually startled him as he glanced up with his best bored expression. The fox’s head was turned slightly towards him, which Foxy found bizarre but didn’t question. _Maybe she’s too dumb to realize she can just glance at me._  
  
“Same difference,” he said with a sneer. “What’s your nickname, Blanc?” he added, wanting to get this done as soon as possible.  
  
“Mangle,” the other fox huffed in answer.  
  
“Stupid name, Vivien is _so_ much better,” Foxy snarked. He watched as the other fox’s yellow eyes narrowed at the page; clearly they were thinking something.  
  
“And Foxy is oh so original,” the returned venomously. “September third, ‘98.”  
  
It took Foxy a moment to realize that the other was answering the next question. “Better than Mangle. Sounds like you were in a goddamned car crash or somethin’,” Foxy snorted, noting down the date.   
  
“Just give me your birth date, jackass.” Foxy rolled his eyes. _Polite_.  
  
“January twenty-sixth, 1999,” he told them.  
  
“Thank you,” the other fox muttered, causing Foxy to pause. He was sure the other hadn’t _meant_ to say that- it had been an automatic response. “Only other place I’ve lived has been Lourmarin.”  
  
 _What_? “Excuse me?” Foxy voiced, looking at his partner in bewilderment. _Do you expect me to know what the fuck that is or how it’s spelled?!_ Apparently noticing his confusion, the fox turned to look at him with their brow scrunched up, confused by his confusion.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Can you speak English, please?” He wasn’t sure why he added the word please; it wasn’t a polite statement at all, considering he knew damn well that it wasn’t English and couldn’t be _said_ in English.  
  
“Lourmarin is a village in France so no, I can’t, ya jackass,” Blanc informed them sarcastically. Foxy narrowed his eyes at them.  
  
“Well at least spell it, asshole.”  
  
Blanc rolled their eyes before they began, very slowly, “L-O-U-R-M-A-R-I-N.” Foxy wrote it down as they spelled it, his irritation growing with every syllable spoken. “You could have just put France, jerkass.” _Well that’s a new one._  
  
“Shut up, shithead. I’ve lived in Sacramento and Wrens,” he told them.  
  
“Wrens?” He got that a lot.  
  
“Georgia,” was his simple response.  
  
“Ah.” Foxy had a feeling the fox was holding something back. “I dunno what the hell I’m doing next.”  
  
Well that was a strange declaration. “Does that mean undecided?” he questioned. It was silent for several moments. He looked over at the white and pink fox and saw them staring in the opposite direction, towards the window. “Hello? He- _llo_?” Had it been Goldie or one of the others he would have poked them, but he was _not_ about to touch _Blanc_. “Hey! Are you even listening, mangey mutt?!”  
  
That seemed to get the fox’s attention as they turned back to look at him, fire in their eyes. “Did you just call me mangey?” they asked, their voice dangerously low, and suddenly Foxy was thinking that this fox was actually maybe a guy. He decided not to voice it. _Maybe "it" is better for this freak._  
  
“Yes, I did,” he snarled right back. “It’s much better than Mangle, don’t’cha think?”   
  
The other fox stared at him and Foxy could clearly see in their eyes that they were thinking about just _decking_ him. _Come on, mutt, I dare ya. Maybe we’ll get different partners if you do and it’ll give me a reason to bash your head against the fucking wall_. However, they didn’t; instead, they took a deep, calming breath, something that Freddy always advised Foxy to do when he got angry.  
  
He watched as the fox’s hand suddenly jerked up towards their own throat, as if to touch something there, but then they simply readjusted the neck part of their turtleneck tanktop. _Why are you even wearing that in August, idiot?_  
  
It was a suspicious motion and he eyed their hand suspiciously as they allowed it to drop back on the desk. It made a strange sound against the wood but he couldn't place why. “If you would _kindly_ repeat what you said, I would _appreciate_ it,” Blanc gritted out, their tone making the polite words obsolete.  
  
“I said,” Foxy growled, eyes narrowed, “does that mean undecided?”  
  
“Obviously. And I thought you were supposed to be smart.”  
  
“And I thought you were supposed to be somewhat observant.” Somewhat; they never said anything “incriminating” within earshot of anyone else, after all.  
  
“Just tell me your future plans so we can move on, jackass,” Blanc huffed, turning away back to their paper.  
  
“Creative with the nicknames,” Foxy sarcastically complimented. “Bernard University in Mount Yond. For history and music.” He watched as Blanc noted these down, frowning at the hand. Something seemed… off about it, when he really _looked_ at it. “And my hobbies and interests are videogames, history, music, and pirates.”  
  
“Makeup, music, and the ocean,” Blanc droned, glancing up at him. _So you_ do _know how to glance at people_. “Favourite colour’s pink.”  
  
“Never would’a guessed,” he sneered, writing it down. Actually, he wouldn’t have guessed that; the fox wasn’t wearing pink at all. They were wearing red and black.  
  
“Fuck you,” he heard Blanc mutter beside him. He was tempted to twist that around on them but chose not to, instead simply ignoring it.  
  
“Pirate Jo,” Foxy said instead, glancing down at the next line on the questionnaire. He fully expected the fox to make a comment but surprisingly, they didn’t.  
  
“Johnny Lovre.” _Who the hell is Johnny Lovre?_ He didn’t ask, instead writing down the fox’s answer. They fell into a tense silence, Foxy’s eyes trained on the phone number line. _I so don’t want this fucker to have my number._  
  
“Might want to get each other’s numbers, I have a habit of changing due dates. You’ll need to be able to make last-minute meetings,” Dr. Schmidt warned them as he walked past. Foxy frowned and glared at Blanc, finding that the white fox was already glaring at him. They held the glare for a while before, at nearly the exact same moment, they broke eye contact and turned their attention back to their own papers.  
  
“223 346-9882,” Blanc finally said. From the corner of his eye Foxy saw them shrug, as if they didn’t really care one way or the other.  
  
“346-9023.” Foxy frowned and added, “If you know what’s best for ya, ya won’t call.”  
  
“Same to you,” Blanc replied, but something about their tone told Foxy there was something they weren’t saying.  _Again._ “Don’t be surprised if I don’t pick up.”   
  
_Not like I’ll be calling you anyway_ , Foxy thought, glaring at the white fox as they turned to look out the window. He watched as, thoughtlessly, they lifted their hand again and rubbed their chest, as though something there ached. He watched them silently as they seemed to leave reality behind, their hand dropping away from their chest and resting on the desk.  
  
After several moments, he turned his gaze away. He wasn’t sure when his glare faded but something didn’t seem... right. His partner was very… aloof, to say the least. _Something isn’t right but it’s none of my business._  
  
He looked towards his friends. Bonnie seemed bothered by something, his hands fidgeting against the desk, but Foxy couldn’t see his expression as he was still watching the blue rabbit. Freddy had a sharp frown on his face and his blue eyes were distant, clearly in thought. Goldie looked plain bored and, in front of himself, Chica just stared towards the whiteboard, leaning against her hand.  
  
Several tense, silent seconds passed before he let his head drop down against his desk.  
  
 _I’m so bored._

* * *

 _My New Lab Partner!_  
  
 _Name_ : Vivian Blanc  
 _Nickname(s)_ : Mangle  
 _DOB_ : 11/3/98  
 _Places You’ve Lived_ : Lourmarin (France)  
 _Future Plans_ : Undecided  
 _Interests/Hobbies_ : Makeup, music, the sea  
 _Favourite Colour_ : Pink  
 _Favourite Band/Musician_ : Johnny Lovre  
 _Phone #_  
   _Cell_ : (223) 346-9882  
   _Landline:_  
  



	3. Beginning of a Long Year, Mangle

The alarm pierced through the landscape in their mind, shattering the sound of laughter and the image of their friends, smiling at a joke they had just said, disappeared within a moment.  
  
“Vivien!” they heard the angry shout from below and they groaned, reaching over to slap the alarm. They missed a few times but eventually they managed to silence the alarm and they slowly sat up. The room was dim, the light barely filtering through the dirty curtains from the canopy above, but they didn’t mind that. They could see just fine in the dark.  
  
Well, all things considered, anyway. They rubbed their sightless right eye before forcing themself out of bed. They had been asleep for hardly two hours when the alarm woke them up, but that was long enough for the stiffness and pain to settle into their bones. _I need another shower_ , they thought bitterly to themself, knowing they smelled like their bed. They needed to wash the sheets and blankets again. _I smell like a dead fish._  
  
Moving carefully, they slipped down the hall and into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind them. This time they remembered to remove their right hand, setting it down on the counter where it wouldn’t get wet. _Damn it hurts_. They stepped into the tub and turned the taps on, then turned the shower on. They didn’t care that the water was still freezing cold at the moment. They didn’t mind.  
  
Mangle let out a sigh and began scrubbing at their fur, wanting to get all evidence of last night’s horror. As they scrubbed they let their mind wander. _It’d be fun to go down to the lake this weekend… I should suggest it to the others. We haven’t had any real fun since the fourth of July._  
  
They could see it now; they would take a picnic basket down and have a lunch that they all helped Chii prepare. None of them would swim afterwards, since Blu didn’t know how and Alfred was too shy to remove any of his clothes in public, but they would all run around with water guns and laugh along the bank, getting soaked and just generally having fun. Mangle and Chii would still insist on wearing makeup and at the end their makeup would be running and completely ruined but they wouldn’t care. Blu would go with them and help them fix it up while Alfred and Spring would clean up the mess from their lunch. Then they would all sit under the large oak tree by the lake and listen to Blu and Spring play guitar while they themselves sang along, and they’d just make jokes and stay long after the sun has set and just watch the stars and talk about anything that came to mind before finally going back to Spring’s house. There they would throw blankets and pillows on the floor and just collapse into the “nest” together, laughing and pretending that everything was okay and that this was normal. It would be fun. It would be peaceful.  
  
It was needed.  
  
Sighing, Mangle let the soap run out of their fur and turned the taps off, stepping out of the tub once finished. Grabbing a towel, they scrubbed vigorously at their fur before picking up their blow dryer to thoroughly dry their fur.  
  
It took about an hour overall but they were used to this. Once their fur was dry, they reconnected their prosthetic and picked up their pink and purple brush. They brushed out their fur and smiled at their reflection tiredly. They looked better but they were still obviously not doing well today. _Good thing I wear makeup. Here we go!_  
  
They grabbed their makeup and carefully began applying it, humming softly to themself as they did so. It didn’t take too long- they didn’t wear too much, just enough to hide the shadows around their eyes without looking suspicious- and they nodded in satisfaction. They slipped out of the bathroom and back to their bedroom where they finally grabbed some clothes; a pair of loose black jeans and a red tanktop turtleneck. It was August, hot, but they needed to hide that ugly purple-yellow bruise on their neck. No amount of makeup would hide that, especially considering how it shone through their fur.  
  
Mindlessly, they slid sandals onto their feet. _Hey, I never claimed to be fashionable_ , they thought bitterly to themself, slinging their bookbag over their shoulder. Downstairs, they could hear the creaking of a bed. _Father is finally getting into bed. Good._  
  
With a soft groan, they headed out the door and hurried downstairs, barely glancing down the hall towards their parents’ room. They snarled quietly then ran out the front door. It was still pitch black outside, but that tended to happen at five-thirty in the morning. They ran down the long driveway, further away from the two-story cabin surrounded by trees, and eventually reached the dirt road. Further down the road other students- some teenagers, some children- waited at the ends of driveways for the buses. Mangle didn’t stop.  
  
They didn’t ride the bus, so they began walking down the dirt road, yellow eyes focused at the end where it turned into a dark back road. They were a mile outside of the city but Mangle was used to the walk anyway, so it didn’t bother them. Ignoring the other students they passed at the ends of driveways, they concentrated only on their mission; get to Chii’s house. It was three miles from Mangle’s house.  
  
 _And that’s why I head out at five-thirty in the morning. I’ll get there around six-ten… if I’m fast._  
  
Once they were on the old backroad and out of sight of their neighbors, they began running. They didn’t want to be late.  
  
When the white fox arrived, the sun was still down but the lights were on in the house. They smiled tiredly and walked to the front porch, giving a quick knock as they stood on the porch, stuffing their hands in their pocket. They wouldn’t go inside, though. They didn’t like Chii’s house.  
  
There was a bad vibe about it that Mangle just didn’t like.

* * *

“Really, Blu, you almost fell while playing your guitar, I think you should go to a doctor.”  
  
“I’m fine, Chii, it doesn’t even hurt that much.”  
  
Mangle let their yellow eyes trail away from their friends as they walked into the classroom, looking at their surroundings. It was a science classroom with eight lab stations in the back and three rows of desks arranged into pairs of two. The front and middle rows had three pairs of desks and the back had two, the center void of desks. The whiteboard at the front of the room read “Advanced Senior Science.”   
  
_What does that mean?_ Mangle wondered to themself with a frown. They paused as they spotted the class textbook and, with a glance around the mostly empty room, reached over and picked it up. They flipped through the book quickly, not bothering doing a thorough investigation.   
  
They only caught a few words, including chemistry, bonds, and atmosphere. However, it was enough for them to realize that this wasn’t one single type of science. _This class must be lab based. There’s no way we can have three or four different kinds of science in the same class if it’s not._  
  
Setting the book back down, they continued over to their friends and dropped into the empty seat on the right of Alfred and on the left of Chii, behind Blu, and they leaned back in their seat. They couldn’t see Chii but that was alright; they could hear her foot tapping the tiled floor. It was a reassuring sound.  
  
“It was really cool, actually, but never again. Too many people, much too loud. Geez.”  
  
Mangle chuckled softly at Spring’s words. They had changed topics when the fox tuned out but that was fine. They could keep up. They were used to it.  
  
“Hey, Spring, can I see your math sheet real quick?”  
  
All of them turned their attention to Blu, furrowing their brows in confusion. “Huh?” Spring was asking, confused. “Blu, we worked on that together, we have the exact same answers already.”  
  
“I know but I want to see something!” Blu told him and Mangle could see his innocent smile. _Oh what are you gonna say next, Blu?_  
  
Out of sight, the door opened again. Mangle didn’t turn to see them, though. They couldn’t be bothered to care, instead watching as Spring pulled his notebook out of his bookbag and handed the worksheet over to their blue friend. They grinned as they exchanged amused glances with their friends, waiting for the ball to drop.  
  
“Chii was right,” Blu finally said after several moments of quiet humming. “You do write like a girl.” Mangle blinked and burst out laughing along with Chii and Spring. They glanced over at Alfred and saw that he was laughing silently as well, an amused smile on his face and a spark in his eyes.  
  
“What?” Spring laughed, taking his worksheet back and looking at it. He then said with a grin, “C’mon, Blu, you should know better than to stereotype genders. I mean, just look at you and me.”  
  
Mangle laughed with them as Chii said, “He has a point. How many times have you been mistaken for a girl since, what, middle school?” That could go for Mangle too, but they were often mistake for a boy or a girl. Most people were convinced that they were female simply because they had pink fur and wore makeup. It irritated them to no end.  
  
Not many people understood the whole “genderless” thing. They were obsessed with knowing what was between each others’ legs. Thankfully, they had long since given up asking them and their friends. They had long since realized the answer would always be the same; _“I’m neither. I have no gender. I’m not a boy or a girl. Mangle is neither.”_  
  
“Aw, shucks, guys, I know I’m fabulous but ya don’t gotta rub it in~” Blu sang to them before shifting his gaze to the front of the room. Mangle laughed even more. “Anyway, advanced senior science, yeah? What does that even mean?”  
  
The fox’s ears twitched and they finally spoke up. “I think it’s lab-based,” they explained, getting their friends’ attention. “I glanced through the textbook on the way in, there’s a lot of different sciences in it. I saw physics, biology, and chemistry in my little… um, glance.”  
  
“You saw a lot of stuff for it being a glance,” Spring snorted as he slid his worksheet back into its place in his bag. His green eyes flicked up to them and he raised a brow. “When’d you even do that? Weren’t you right behind us in the door?”  
  
“It’s called I paused, Springy,” Mangle deadpanned, earning laughs from the rest. Even Alfred. They grinned slightly, proud that they could elicit an audible response from the bear.  
  
“Well, duh,” Spring snorted, rolling his eyes. “I was just-”  
  
“Alright, then, settle down class,” a new voice cut in, startling Mangle. Their gaze snapped to the front of the room where a tall human with bright blue eyes and dyed green hair stood. _When did he get here?_ “I am Doctor Mike Schmidt and this year I am your science teacher.” _Okay, Dr. Schmidt. Will you tell us what this class is?_  
  
In front of Mangle, Blu turned his head slightly to see what Spring was frowning at. Mangle wanted to look, too, but they couldn’t see the right side of the room. They could, however, shift slightly so that they could see the front _row_ of the right side of the room… and they could see part of the Fazcrew.  
  
Mangle frowned and turned their attention back to the front of the classroom. _That explains Spring’s expression_. The Fazcrew, as they were known, was their “enemy,” at least in the eyes of the school. Alfred didn’t care one way or another and Blu hated the way they acted, the way they laughed about any and everything for no reason. Chii didn’t like anyone who disliked her friends on principal; it probably didn’t help that she didn’t like the way they lead the rest of the school in ignoring certain students like themselves and Marion Marshal, the school outcast. Spring? Mangle wasn’t sure about him. They suspected it was because Spring was from the same economic class but he treated it all differently than they did; where Spring was humble and used his money for the benefit of those around him, the Fazcrew were all comfortable in their wealth and excess and it showed in the way they dressed, in the cars they drove, in the homes they lived in. None of them even knew the Fazcrew on a personal level, had never even spoken to them. All they knew was that the Fazcrew disliked them for no reason, and that was reason enough combined with everything else.  
  
To be honest, objectively speaking the Fazcrew weren’t even bad people. They were kind to almost everyone around them, helping out teachers and other students and always smiling and cheering people up. Their kindness didn’t extend to Mangle or their friends, though; all they ever received from the Fazcrew was dislike and disgust. Sometimes Mangle wondered how they would react if they knew the hell that was their life, how they would react if they knew the truth, but then they figured they probably wouldn’t care.  
  
Personally, Mangle couldn’t stand the Fazcrew; they were the type of perfect people who thought they knew everything, that they were never wrong, that anyone who wasn’t like them wasn’t real. The kind of people who didn’t realize that there are people out there that are different. That there are people out there whose smiles hide fear, whose laughs hide pain, whose perfectly primped fur and makeup hide scars and bruises, whose tripping and stumbling weren’t due to clumsiness but an inability to stand straight, whose homework didn’t get completed because they were too busy going through hell to care.   
  
They were the kinds of people who didn’t understand that there were parents who hated their own children.  
  
“...and you cannot switch out partners.”  
  
 _Wait, what_? Realizing that they had just zoned out for at least two minutes, their attention snapped back to the teacher. _Switch partners? What’s going on? Dammit._  
  
“I have partnered everyone up for specific reasons, and this is the partner you will have all year long.” _Oh. Fuck_. “You will sit beside each other in the classroom, when we are in the lab you will work together at your station, and you will be expected to work outside of the classroom as well. Basically, your lab partner in this class will be the person every assignment in this class, minus your exams, will be done with. Whether you call each other or meet up in person is up to you.”  
  
Mangle stared at the teacher, wide-eyed and scowling slightly. _Seriously? What if we’re split up… Spring will have a panic attack- what if they find out about his medicine or discover his journal? And Alfred- what if they catch the scent of alcohol or notice the bruises? Hell, what if they somehow notice that burn scar on the back of his leg? What if someone sees through Blu? If they meet Chii’s step-father and notice… what if someone sees my scars? Realizes my hand is prosthetic, finds out I’m half-blind? What if-_  
  
 _Calm down, Mangle, you’re freaking yourself out. No one’s gonna notice it. It’s not even obvious._  
  
“Alright. Gather your stuff, everyone,” Dr. Schmidt’s voice called after several moments of silence. “And stand back near the lab stations. You can choose your own seats, but you must be sitting next to your partner.”  
  
 _Well obviously_ , Mangle mentally scoffed, standing up silently and grabbing their bag. They walked back with their friends, taking the chance to glance briefly at the rest of the class now that they could see them.  
  
There was the Fazcrew plus four humans. _Fourteen. There’s two free desks_. They turned around, losing sight of the rest of the class, and leaned back against the station next to Chii. _Please don’t let this be a disaster_ , they silently begged, watching the green-haired scientist pacing at the front of the classroom.  
  
Soon he abruptly stopped and turned towards them, clipboard in hand. “Alright now! First, Bonito Rodriguez and Bonnie Henderson.”  
  
Mangle’s ears twitched as they picked up on the displeased hisses both rabbits let out. Their gaze followed the blue rabbit to the far right side of the room, where Henderson had claimed the pair of desks right next to the door. Henderson sat at the left desk and Mangle closed their eyes, resisting the urge to sigh. Blu was separated from them now, stuck between Henderson and a brick wall. Well, the desk wasn’t pressed against the wall but it was close enough that it might as well have been.  
  
“Marion Marshal and Malesha Jacks.”  
  
 _And there goes our plan B partner._  
  
They could hear the two humans walking across the room and taking the desk not even four steps in front of them. The back row by the window.  
  
“Freddy Fazbear and Alfred Fischbach.”  
  
Their heart plummeted. They… did not have a good feeling about this. The white fox opened their eyes to watch Alfred head towards the desk Fazbear claimed. The back row near the door, two desks behind Blu and Henderson. Alfred was between Fazbear and the wall. Mangle’s eyes narrowed slightly.  
  
Something was happening and they weren’t sure what it was. It was almost like-  
  
“Vivien Blanc and Drew Jones.”  
  
Mangle couldn’t hide the hiss that escaped their lips, but they also very clearly heard the other fox’s growl. They turned slightly to glare over at the red fox and noticed he was already making his way towards the desks to the left of the empty pair between Alfred and Blu.   
  
_Oh. They’re saving that seat_ , Mangle thought bitterly as they moved to the pair of desks that Jones had claimed, dropping down into the left seat. They felt completely isolated from their friends. They couldn’t see Blu, Alfred, or even their own partner- a stranger they hated, to boot. Their heartrate picked up. Did they just miss the next names? They glanced up as two human girls approached the front desks by the window. Who were they? They weren’t sure. _I must have zoned out. Again._  
  
“Frederick Fazbear and Spring Salvage.”  
  
 _I feel sic_ k. Mangle’s ears flattened. They were all stuck with their “Fazcrew” equivalent… which, for most of them, was basically their species. For Spring it was fur colour... They had made so many jokes about that before and now Mangle felt sick thinking about it. Now it no longer felt funny.  
  
“Francisca Sanchez and Charlotte Kain,” Dr. Schmidt finished but the two chickens were already sitting down. Mangle felt a little better to see Chii sitting in front of them. It made them feel a little less sick, a little less anxious, a little less alone.  
  
They could see her. And her partner, too, but they ignored that fact. They just focused on the fact that they could see her. Their friend. One of the people they trusted more than they trusted themself. One of their few reasons to live.   
  
_Everything’s alright, Mangle_ , they thought desperately to themself. _Everything’s alright. We’re gonna meet up for lunch again, laugh about this bullshit, then we’re gonna go to art and have a blast in the studio like last year and go have music with Mr. Fitzgerald again. It’ll all be good. It’ll all be good. It’ll all be good. I- wait, is Dr. Schmidt talking? Dammit, Mangle, focus!_  
  
“-of you to fill out this questionnaire about your partner, which you will then read aloud to the class.”  
  
 _Questionnaire? Damn, I need to stop zoning out_. Mangle took the sheet of paper from Chii and looked at the questions, frowning.  
  
 _My New Lab Partner!_  
  
 _Name:_  
 _Nickname(s):_  
 _DOB:_  
 _Places You’ve Lived:_  
 _Future Plans:_  
 _Interests/Hobbies:_  
 _Favourite Colour:_  
 _Favourite Band/Musician:_  
 _Phone #_  
 _Cell:_  
 _Landline:_  
  
They knew all of two, and those were the name and nickname. They scowled and glanced in the direction of their partner… even though they couldn’t see him. _He’s sitting on my right. Fuck._  
  
Turning their head so they could actually see their partner, they noticed him unhappily writing down their name.  
  
 _Vivian Blanc._  
  
“It’s I-E-N,” they growled without thinking. The red fox glanced up at them, clearly unimpressed.  
  
“Same difference,” he sneered, not changing it. “What’s your nickname, Blanc?”  
  
Mangle was so tempted to hit him as they wrote the fox’s name and nickname down. “Mangle,” they huffed, turning back to their own paper.  
  
“Stupid name, Vivien is so much better,” Jones snarked sarcastically. Mangle snarled and narrowed their eyes, though now they stared down at their paper rather than their partner. _You don’t even know the significance of my name, you jerk._   
  
“And Foxy is oh so original,” they shot back venomously. “September third, ‘98.”  
  
“Better than Mangle. Sounds like you were in a goddamned car crash or somethin’.” Mangle grit their teeth. They _so_ wanted to just claw his eyes out.  
  
“Just give me your birth date, jackass.”  
  
“January twenty-sixth, 1999.”  
  
“Thank you,” Mangle muttered subconsciously, writing the date down. “Only other place I’ve lived has been Lourmarin.”  
  
“Excuse me?” Jones sounded bewildered, causing Mangle to look at him, brows scrunched together.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Can you speak English, please?” Mangle was almost amused at how the other fox used please; a polite word of request snarled out like a demand. They would have been more amused if the fox’s hostile amber eyes didn’t absolutely piss them off.  
  
“Lourmarin is a village in France so no, I can’t, ya jackass,” they drawled boredly.  
  
“Well at least spell it, asshole.” Mangle rolled their eyes.  
  
“L-O-U-R-M-A-R-I-N,” they spelled slowly as if speaking to a three year old. Sarcastically, they added, “You could have just put France, jerkass.”  
  
“Shut up, shithead. I’ve lived in Sacramento and Wrens.”  
  
“Wrens?” they questioned; they’d never heard of it. They noted down Sacramento.  
  
“Georgia.”  
  
“Ah.” They wanted to make a snarky comment but Spring had actually been _born_ in Georgia and they didn’t want to insult one of their best friends. They refrained, instead looking at the next question. “I dunno what the hell I’m doing next.”  
  
Actually that wasn’t what Mangle meant to say. They meant to simply say “undecided” but that slipped out instead. _I must be getting lost again. It would be nice to be outside right now… It’s so nice and warm out…_ Their gaze trailed over to the window across the empty pair of desks. The sun was shining so brightly, it was perfect weather to go out and climb a tree and have a picnic… _maybe take a walk through the woods or even mess around somewhere on Spring’s property. That old barn was fun to play in when we were thirteen, I bet it’s still fun today… it wouldn’t-_  
  
“Hey! Are you even listening, mangey mutt?!”  
  
 _Oh no he did not._  
  
“Did you just call me mangey?” They asked, voice dangerously low as they turned their attention back to Jones. Jones growled.  
  
“Yes, I did. It’s much better than Mangle, don’t’cha think?”   
  
_I want to punch him. Maybe I will punch him. The others would understand, right? What am I thinking, of course they wouldn’t._ They took a calming breath; they didn’t want to get in trouble on the first day of school. Their parents would… _don’t think about that_ , they told themself firmly, hand automatically going up to their throat. Realizing what they had just done, they played it off as them adjusting the turtleneck part.  
  
“If you would _kindly_ repeat what you said, I would _appreciate_ it,” they said through gritted teeth in a tone that clearly said that they would _not_ appreciate anything from the red fox.  
  
“I said,” Jones growled right back, “does that mean undecided?”  
  
“Obviously. And I thought you were supposed to be smart.” _Pulling me out of my mind like that- ugh…_  
  
“And I thought you were supposed to be somewhat observant.”  
  
 _You don’t know the half of it._ “Just tell me your future plans so we can move on, jackass.”  
  
“Creative with the nicknames,” he snarked. “Bernard University in Mount Yond. For history and music.” Mangle noted these down boredly. “And my hobbies and interests are videogames, history, music, and pirates.”  
  
 _Fuck you so much, pirates are my thing_. “Makeup, music, and the ocean,” they droned out, glancing over at Jones despite not being able to see him. “Favourite colour’s pink.”  
  
“Never would’a guessed,” Jones sneered, writing the information down.  
  
“Fuck you,” Mangle muttered. It went either unnoticed or ignored.  
  
“Gold, Pirate Jo.”  
  
 _Pirate Jo? That loon? You_ are _crazy_. “Johnny Lovre.”  
  
They fell into silence as they wrote down the information. Neither of them wanted to give their number to the other- Mangle could tell simply by the silence itself. They turned their head slightly so they could look over at their friends. Blu was staring at the door. Spring, from what they could see, was just staring at their desk. They still couldn’t see Alfred. They hoped he was alright.  
  
Chii hadn’t said a word but had been filling out her sheet before. Mangle figured she must have decided to fill it out to hand over to her partner. _Why didn’t I think of that?_  
  
“Might want to get each other’s numbers, I have a habit of changing due dates. You’ll need to be able to make last-minute meetings,” Dr. Schmidt warned them as he walked past. Mangle scowled and glared at Jones, who glared right back. After a few moments, they averted their gazes back to their papers.  
  
“223 346-9882,” they finally bit out with a careless shrug.  
  
“346-9023. If you know what’s best for ya, ya won’t call.”  
  
“Same to you.” _But not for the reason you think._ “Don’t be surprised if I don’t pick up.” They mainly added that as an explanation- but why? So what if Drew “Foxy” Jones thought them rude? They didn’t like each other anyway.   
  
Before the other fox could make any response, Mangle turned away to look out the window again. Now they could afford to zone out, they mused as they rubbed at their upper chest. They could feel the pressure on the bruise under their metal-and-plastic hand. They hadn’t even realized it was that large, extending from the base of their neck across their chest. _That explains the ache_.  
  
 _Oh how nice it would be to fly away… to see the world from above, far away from all of this pain… how free I could be… to just fly away and be anywhere but here..._  
  
And, in their mind, they were gone.

* * *

 _My New Lab Partner_!  
  
 _Name_ : Drew Jones  
 _Nickname(s)_ : Foxy  
 _DOB_ : Jan. 26, 1999  
 _Places_ _You_ ’ _ve Lived_ : Sacramento, Wrens (Georgia)  
 _Future Plans_ : Bernard U in Mount Yond, history & music   
_Interests_ / _Hobbies_ : Videogames, history, music, pirates  
 _Favourite_ _Colour_ : Gold  
 _Favourite_ _Band_ / _Musician_ : Pirate Jo  
 _Phone_ _#_  
   _Cell_ : (223) 346-9023  
 _Landline:_


	4. Suspicions, Foxy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait!

“Thank you for your cooperation, class. Remember, these review packets need to be done by class Wednesday. You can use the next five minutes to talk amongst yourselves but I ask you don’t leave your desks, please.”

“Whatever,” Foxy muttered to himself, turning in his seat to look at his friends. The twins had immediately gone into conversation with one another, but strangely enough Bonnie hadn’t joined them. The red fox shared a look with Chica, who rolled her eyes.

“He’s watching Rodriguez,” she muttered and Foxy frowned, glancing back at Bonnie. She was right. “Probably because of earlier.”

“Earlier?” Foxy repeated, raising a brow.

“Tell ya later,” Chica dismissed with a slight wave of her feathery hand. “Doesn’t really matter, anyway.”

Foxy shrugged slightly; there wasn’t really any way he could deny that. “Ya know,” he started, holding up the packet and flipping through it, “I wonder if this’ll put our plans this evenin’ on hold.”

“Oh please,” Chica snorted, leafing through the packet. “We can finish these in an hour or two, tops. Plenty of time for pizza and videogames.”

“Good. What movies do ya think will be on the marathon this weekend?”

“Hopefully something fun,” Chica sighed. “I vote Mummies.”

Foxy gave her a grin. “Lemme guess, first two, not the third?”

“Duh,” Chica snorted, giving him a grin back. “Just like we know damn well we won’t be watching the fourth Indiana Jones.”

“There’s a fourth one?” Foxy asked innocently, tilting his head to the side. The chicken in front of him laughed.

“Oh, Foxy, you silly little fox,” she chuckled. Foxy grinned and looked back towards the others. His wide grin morphed into a slight scowl as he realized  _ all three _ of them were watching Fischbach, Salvage, and Rodriguez, who either didn’t give a damn or were completely oblivious.

The fox leaned over, focusing on Bonnie- who was  _ very _ openly staring at the three weirdoes- and called, “Bonnie.” The rabbit  _ did _ react… by lifting his hand in Foxy’s direction, holding one finger up.  _ Just a moment. _

He was being brushed off by one of his best friends… because of _ Bonito Rodriguez. _

_ Are you fucking serious, Bonnie? _

Foxy turned to look at Chica, brows raised. Chica simply shrugged in response, clearly unable to say  _ why _ Bonnie was acting that way, but a frown on her face told Foxy she had her suspicions.

Instead of dwelling on it, though, he just sighed and said, “Well, ya already know my vote is on the Caribbean movies.”

“Again?” Chica groaned, leaning on her desk. “We watched those at  _ least _ three times over summer, Foxy.”

“And we’ll damn well watch them again,” Foxy declared with a grin, snickering as Chica groaned. “Come on, even you have to admit those movies are good. A bit  _ inaccurate, _ but good!”

“The first one’s good,” Chica shot back, “though the love story was really boring to me.”

Foxy rolled his amber eyes at his friend. “Of course it was,” he snorted, stretching his arms above his head. “Ya’ve never much been into that kind of thing.”

The bell rang at that moment, signalling the end of class, and Foxy leapt out of his seat- just barely avoiding a collision with Goldie, out of his own seat just as fast. Chica stood up much more calmly as Freddy and Bonnie also stood up, shaking her head towards Foxy and Goldie. Foxy stuck his tongue out at her and headed for the door, the others following behind.

_ “Hypocrite.” _

_ “I’ll have you know that I am a  _ proud _ hypocrite, thank you very much.” _

Foxy scowled at the snatch of conversation he caught as he passed his weird classmates. Outside of the classroom, he paused to wait for Bonnie and Freddy to join them. As the two best friends stepped out of the classroom, they resumed walking. The conversation from the classroom melted into the sounds around, becoming muted until Foxy could no longer even distinguish their voices.

“Thank god it’s only one class,” Goldie snorted and Foxy nodded slightly in agreement, frowning. Oh, sure, they had their second period gym class with the weirdoes, but they didn’t have to actually  _ interact _ with them there.

_ And now I have to actually meet with the freak outside of school? Jesus Christ… _

He dropped down beside Goldie at their table, hardly glancing at the jock sitting next to him, and pulled his lunch out. “That was  _ really _ weird,” Goldie finally declared and Foxy frowned; he did not want this conversation in front of their supposed “friends.” 

“Weird?” Chica repeated and Foxy glanced at her. He huffed softly.

“You didn’t even talk to your partner,” he accused with a sharp frown. “It was  _ really _ weird. Somethin’s off about Blanc.” Was there really any way to explain it, though? Everyone knew something was  _ off _ about Blanc- no one even knew if the fox was male or female, for Pete’s sake. “He, she, it, whatever is  _ really _ weird.”

“Maybe there’s a reason,” Freddy mused thoughtfully. Foxy frowned and leaned forward, looking past Goldie towards the brown bear; he was looking at his fork, a soft frown in place.  _ Well of course there’s a reason, Freddy, but I frankly don’t give a damn. _

“What do you mean?” Bonnie asked, a matching,  _ knowing _ frown on his face as he looked at Freddy. Foxy scowled.

_ Can we  _ not _ talk about those freaks? Especially  _ here _ when we should be eating?! _

“It’s nothing,” Freddy decided to say after several moments of silence.  _ Anticlimactic much? _

Goldie turned to look at Foxy and Chica, a frown on his own face. The red fox felt slightly validated, noticing Chica and Goldie both looked as annoyed as he felt. It was good to know that he wasn’t alone; Freddy and Bonnie were the strange ones this time around, not him.

“They’re complaining about getting partnered with us,” Bonnie suddenly said, irritation seeping into his voice. Foxy hoped that meant the rabbit would drop whatever he was thinking. “As if they have any right to complain, we’re the ones stuck with a bunch of weirdoes.”

Foxy picked his sandwich up. “Here here,” he agreed, taking a bite out of his sandwich.  _ Good to know you still have your senses. _

“But you know, Freddy,” Bonnie suddenly added and Foxy glanced over towards him, ears flattening. “I agree. I think there’s a reason for it.”

The silence that descended over the five friend was unfamiliar and tense. Foxy didn’t like it. He turned back to his lunch, ignoring the conversation the jock next to him was now carrying, and continued eating his sandwich. The fact that  _ Vivien Blanc _ and their friends could bring this silence over the five of them irked Foxy to no end. The worst part was he had no answer to quiet Bonnie and Freddy’s questions.

Across the cafeteria he could hear laughter _._

* * *

 

“Oh god dammit.”

The words fell from his lips before he could even really register what he was seeing. Whatever it was, though, it ended abruptly.

Vivien Blanc, Spring Salvage, and Charlotte Kain’s gazes all snapped over to the door, their laughter cutting off; Alfred Fischbach jerked forward to catch Bonito Rodriguez before he could hit the floor. It took Foxy a moment to realize that Rodriguez had been spinning around on the swivel stool in the back of the classroom, and for whatever reason his words disrupted the five friends’ fun, causing the blue rabbit to lose his balance.

_ Wish he’d fallen _ , Foxy thought bitterly as Rodriguez started laughing, following Freddy to the front table and dropping down into a seat between Bonnie and Chica.

“So,” Freddy started, “what movies were we wanting to watch this weekend?” 

Instantly Foxy’s scowl was replaced with a grin. Leaning forward to look around Bonnie and Goldie, he called out, “All of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies!”

From next to him, Chica began laughing and added, “Well, I wanna watch the first two Mummy movies this time.”

“The Indiana Jones Trilogy,” Goldie finally put in, grinning widely. Foxy was tempted to ask about the fourth one.

“This is going to be a long weekend then,” Freddy chuckled, clearly amused by their choices. “While we’re at it let’s add National Treasures to it.”

“Leave it to you to say National Treasures,” Chica laughed, shaking her head. “Sounds like we got a weekend planned.”

A few seconds of silence passed without a fifth suggestion being pushed in. Foxy frowned as both him and Goldie turned to look at their purple rabbit. Bonnie was watching them, but his lips were pursed and his brows drawn together, ears perked as much as a lop-eared rabbit’s ears could be. Foxy’s own ears twitched and he scowled, realizing just what had Bonnie’s attention.

_ “What’d you have in mind, Mangle?” _

_ “War by the water.” _

_ “Didn’t someone nearly fall in the lake last time we did that? Well it’s got my vote~!” _

“Bonnie?” Goldie tried and Foxy watched, irritated, as the rabbit didn’t react at all. “Bonnie?” he repeated, lifting a hand to wave in front of Bonnie’s face. “Booonniiieeee.”

_ “...yeah. We could definitely use a little vacation.” _

Foxy jerked slightly, shaking his head.  _ Stop it, Foxy, tune them out. _ He looked at Goldie again, scowling as he noticed Goldie watching him with a strange expression. The golden bear turned his attention back to the rabbit.

“Bonnie, Earth to Bonnie.” Finally, the rabbit seemed to enter reality and he blinked at them, surprised. Then he grinned and waved slightly at the bear.

“Sorry, lost in thought,” Bonnie said distractedly and Foxy frowned.

“I noticed,” Goldie snorted, though the way his brows drew together told Foxy he was somewhat worried about the rabbit.  _ He seems to have an unhealthy fixation on those weirdoes all of a sudden _ . “You didn’t even tell us what movie you wanted to add to the marathon. Really, though, what’s got you so distracted? You’re not usually like this.”

Bonnie gave him a noncommittal shrug and Foxy looked back at Chica, whose brow was furrowed in concern. Her expression morphed into confusion and the fox looked back towards Bonnie just to find him turned around in his seat, watching the back of the studio.

_ Oh, right, that’s not obvious at all, Bonnie! _

“Creep,” Foxy snorted, turning to look at Chica again. “What’s gotten into him?”

“They’ll be too drunk to even remember the next morning.” 

It was Blanc’s voice. Foxy’s ears twitched as Chica raised a brow, the same question hanging between them;  _ Who? _

It wasn’t spoken loudly but it definitely carried across the room; anyone who wanted to could have easily heard that, as evidenced by the fact that Chica had heard it too… and she didn’t exactly have the  _ best _ hearing in the world.

“Wanna talk about weird?” Bonnie suddenly muttered as he turned back around, catching Foxy and the others’ attention. “I’ll tell you guys everything later.”

That struck Foxy as odd. “Everything?” he repeated incredulously, staring at his friend. He scowled. “Wait, why are you suddenly so interested in those weirdoes?” he demanded, confusion seeping into his voice. Out of all of them to become so interested in that group, Bonnie was definitely the  _ last _ person he expected. Bonnie had always disliked them even more than Foxy himself did. “We’ve spoken to them all of  _ once. _ We’re their science partners, not their  _ friends _ .”

“You don’t need to be friends to know something’s going on here,” Bonnie huffed, glaring slightly at Foxy. Before Foxy could even think of a retort, the rabbit turned towards the board in front and added, “I’m not waiting for someone to fucking  _ die _ before I’m willing to do something, weirdoes or not.”

_ That _ shut Foxy up. Yet another tense silence fell over them and Foxy watched as Bonnie simply  _ sat  _ there, not explaining  _ anything.  _ On Bonnie’s other side, Goldie looked shocked to the core and Freddy simply frowned, turning his head away with narrowed eyes. He didn’t look surprised at all by Bonnie’s words.

When Goldie broke the tense silence, his voice was too low to carry far.  _ “Die? _ What the hell do you  _ think’s  _ going on that makes you think one of them’s gonna get  _ killed _ ?” he demanded. This was an answer Foxy wanted to hear, too.

However, at that moment the bell rang and a red-haired man stood up and made his way to the front of the room. “Later,” Bonnie hissed, just loud enough for all of them them to hear.

“Everyone quiet down now!” Jumping slightly, Foxy turned his gaze to the human up front, who was grinning around at all of them. He sounded much too cheery for Foxy’s mood and somehow that only brought him down more. “Up front, all eyes please, so we can get this over and done with and get started on having fun. Alright then, everyone settled? Good. I’m Fritz Smith and this is art…"

* * *

The air was tense in Bonnie’s bedroom. No one dared to speak up and ask Bonnie what he meant, and equally Bonnie didn’t dare speak up about it without invitation.

Foxy honestly hoped no one gave him that invitation. He didn’t want to talk about it. There was a twisting in his stomach, a knot of dread perhaps, and he didn’t want to know what was going through the rabbit’s mind. He certainly didn’t want it to make sense.

It was so much easier to just dismiss everything as them being weird.  _ Unusual _ . The kind of people that normal members of society don’t interact with- the kind that people like Foxy and his friends kept their distance from.

Bonnie and Freddy both seemed to be suggesting that they weren’t  _ just _ weirdoes… but that they had a damn good reason for it. Foxy didn’t want to hear it.

It was Chica who cracked, surprising Foxy. He had been so sure it would be Goldie, but it was his only female friend’s voice that demanded, “Bonnie, what the fuck did you mean earlier?”

Rolling his eyes, Foxy looked up at his friends. He made his annoyance very clear, despite the twisting sick feeling in his stomach. Those words had been plaguing him- and, he was sure, his friends- all day.

Bonnie seemed shocked at the question. “What do you mean what the fuck did I mean? I think I was very clear.”

Before Chica could respond, Freddy said, “Yes. You were clear in the fact you think one of them is likely to die. What we don’t understand is how you came to that conclusion.”

“And after only one conversation,” Foxy cut in as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, leaning back against the wall to better see the rabbit sitting on the bed. “C’mon, Bonnie, you’re just reading too much into their words.” It quickly became apparent that that was  _ not _ the right thing to say as Bonnie scowled, his eyes narrowing slightly, but Foxy felt like it  _ needed _ to be said. “We don’t even  _ know _ them,” he continued insistently, trying to get the rabbit to understand. “We’ve only spoken to them once and you’ve only overheard their conversations, what, a couple times? You’re hearing what you  _ want  _ to hear.” 

“He’s got a point,” Goldie agreed, not backing down when Bonnie’s frown was turned on him. “You have a suspicion about somethin’, so your mind’s twisting things to match it. It’s pretty common, actually.” 

From his spot beside Goldie, Freddy shifted uneasily. “I don’t know,” he started, glancing around at them before focusing on Bonnie. “Somethin’ does seem…  _ off _ .”

_ They  _ are _ off, Freddy! That’s why they’re the school weirdoes!  _ When the fox opened his mouth to say as much, though, Freddy suddenly glared at him, as though sensing the oncoming interruption. “And I’m not just talkin’ about how strange they are.” Foxy shut his mouth and scowled; Freddy had known exactly what he was about to say. “I think Bonnie’s right, somethin’s going on. And you’re right, too, Foxy; we  _ don’t _ know them,” the bear sighed. He seemed to hesitate, as if wondering if he should continue.

Foxy wished he wouldn’t.

“We see only what they let us see,” Freddy said slowly, choosing his words carefully. He frowned before adding, “Well…  _ Supposedly _ we only see what they want us to see.”

“Supposedly?” Chica repeated, raising a brow at their friend. Foxy simply scowled. “What do you mean supposedly?”

The bear simply shrugged before saying, “When you’re not used to people watching you or paying you any attention, you’re bound to screw up.” Then he turned to Bonnie. “Bonnie? Context, please?” Bonnie’s scowl slipped away in favor of pursed lips and a furrowed brow, clearly thinking.

_ You’re reading too much into things, Bonnie… _

“Well,” Bonnie started slowly, really thinking about his words. “When we were doing that stupid questionnaire thing, Rodriguez… had a freak-out, I guess? He just suddenly… froze up,” Bonnie explained, sounding unsure of himself. “Like, he wasn’t even  _ breathing. _ And when I tried to say something, he got really, uh…”

The rabbit trailed off, looking conflicted and unsure. Chica, however, seemed to know what he was talking about as she muttered, “Oh.” Foxy looked at the chicken sitting at Bonnie’s desk; she was watching their purple friend with a frown. “That’s what that was about, huh? He sounded really pissed, Bonnie.”

_ Huh? Is this what Chica was referencin’ earlier? _

“You heard that, huh?” Bonnie sighed and Chica simply nodded a confirmation. Bonnie continued with, “I don’t know what set him off, really. He wasn’t just angry, he was  _ scared _ . Terrified, even. I don’t even know what I did to scare him but he didn’t seem all there.”

_ What’s that supposed to prove? _

“So you did something to scare him,” Foxy scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. He ignored the way Bonnie frowned sharply at him. “That doesn’t mean anything, Bonnie.”  _ He could have been scared of anything. _

Bonnie’s red eyes met Foxy’s amber and Foxy couldn’t help but pause. Something about the way the rabbit was looking at him made that twisting ball of dread shift. He just  _ knew _ Bonnie was about to say something- something that would change  _ everything _ . 

He didn’t want him to say it.

Looking him straight in the eye and without an ounce of uncertainty, Bonnie declared, “A bloody bandage does, though.” 

The twisting ball of dread seemed to curl around his heart now. There were many things a bloody bandage could mean-  _ he could have just fallen down. _ There were so many things it could have been but he couldn’t get the words to work. He just watched Bonnie silently, waiting for an explanation.

The rabbit continued speaking after letting the silence reign for several seconds. “When we went into the art room his shirt rode up when Fishbach pulled him to his feet. You guys were talking about our marathon and I was watching them, ‘cause they had said some really weird things. He had a bandage wrapped around his abdomen and there was blood on it- and I wasn’t just  _ seeing _ things, ma’s a doctor, I know a bandage when I see one.”

Chica shifted uneasily in her seat and Foxy was feeling  _ very _ strange. He felt sick; he wasn’t stupid, after all. He knew what kind of things Bonnie was suggesting. There were many things that bandage could mean, though, and he clung to that fact and tried to keep his voice confident and strong as he said, “So he probably fell. It doesn’t mean anything.” However, even he could detect the waver in his voice. His words, so confident, were defeated by his tone.

Before anyone could make a retort, Freddy suddenly blurted out with, “Fischbach’s practically mute.”

They all turned their eyes to Freddy, confusion on all of their faces and surprise on Freddy’s own. Clearly he hadn’t meant to actually say that and he frowned to himself. 

Goldie was the first to respond with, “Huh? No he’s not, I heard him talking.”

Freddy let out a long-suffering sigh as he said, “Practically. I didn’t say he  _ is _ . I thought he was being rude at first but he was legitimately struggling to say anything.” The bear paused, frowning, before continuing with, “He looked really ashamed about it, too. I basically had to watch him the entire time… which is kind of awkward but yeah...” He trailed off, looking uncertain about whether he should tell them more.

Without a doubt Foxy’s vote was on  _ no _ , but Chica asked, “And that has anything to do with a bloody bandage because…?” Silently Foxy cursed his luck; with every word spoken he began to feel slightly more awful, that ball of dread spreading like a disease through his abdomen and chest.

“He had a bruise around his wrist, too,” Freddy answered and Foxy’s heart raced. “He rubbed his wrist and ended up pulling the fur back and I noticed it. I didn’t really get a good look, considering I was only glancing, but it… looked a  _ lot  _ like a hand.” Foxy’s stomach dropped.  _ Nope. No way. No. We are not going there. No. _ Freddy then added quickly, “From what I saw, anyway.”

Foxy glanced around at all of his friends, not missing Chica’s worried glance in his direction. She was thinking the same as him. “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Chica declared, turning to look at Bonnie. “We don’t know what’s going on. For all we know they could have been roughhousing or gotten themselves into an accident.”

Foxy clung to that reasoning. It was true, after all;  _ anything _ could have hurt them. It wasn’t necessarily…  _ that. _

“Besides, Kain didn’t look like she had  _ any _ sort of trouble going on,” Chica added, glancing up at the ceiling with a slight frown. 

“I didn’t notice anything about Salvage either,” Goldie put in helpfully, though an edge in his voice told Foxy that he wasn’t so sure anymore. “He was just really nervous and wary.”

_ They’re just a bunch of weirdoes, _ Foxy told himself desperately, but now he was thinking about his own interaction with Blanc. The way they zoned out, absently rubbing at their chest as if they were having pain… He didn’t even realize he was scowling as he said, “Blanc kept zoning out but that doesn’t mean anything.” He looked up at Bonnie again, feeling more like he was assuring himself than trying to talk sense into the rabbit. “They’re all weirdoes and they’re bonded by their mutual weirdness, but that doesn’t  _ mean _ anything, Bonnie.”

He wanted so desperately to believe it. Somewhere in his mind, his right hand began hurting.

The hand that wasn’t even real.

Bonnie’s eyes narrowed at him. “I’m just saying,” he started, voice strained, “that I  _ really _ think someone needs to keep an eye on those five. Something is  _ wrong _ here and if it has  _ anything _ to do with what I think it might-”

That was where Foxy couldn’t keep it in anymore. 

“We have no right to suspect  _ anything _ !” Foxy burst out, glaring angrily at Bonnie.  _ We are not going to assume things here! _ “There was a bruise, a bandage, and a freak-out, whatever! It doesn’t mean anything, it could be any number of things! It’s  _ none of our business _ .”

And that was true. It was  _ none _ of their business. Whatever was going on they had  _ no right _ to get involved with. They weren’t friends with these people. They weren’t even on  _ good terms _ with these people. 

At the same time, though, Foxy knew he was wrong. He knew it in the way his heart clenched, his stomach churned, in the memory of that white fox rubbing their chest, the thought of a hand-shaped bruise and bloody bandage…

He knew he was wrong.  _ All _ of them knew he was wrong.

The only thing he was right about was that they didn’t  _ know _ what was going on. They  _ didn’t _ have a right to  _ assume _ anything. If they did, they could easily end up pulling lives apart, derailing any plans those five had for their futures.

_ But if the assumption is correct… _

He cut the thought off before it could finish. 

Finally, Chica broke the tense, shocked silence. “I think,” she started slowly, picking her pen up again, “that both of you are right.”

Bonnie and Goldie’s expressions took on confusion and Freddy seemed conflicted, but Foxy understood. He knew exactly what Chica was about to say, and he was already mentally preparing himself for a response.

“How can both of them be right?” Goldie asked, sounding just as confused as he looked. “They’re saying the exact  _ opposite _ of each other.”

_ Fragments, Goldie. Fragments. _

“They’re both right in a way,” Chica explained. She pointed her pen towards Bonnie, directing all of their gazes to him. “Bonnie’s right, somethin’ fishy’s goin’ on, and if it puts any of them in danger then just standing by and watching it happen is just as bad as dealin’ the blow ourselves.”

It was a cold hard truth and it made Foxy sick.  _ Damned if we do, damned if we don’t. _

Chica’s pen shifted over towards Foxy himself, and suddenly all eyes were on him. “But Foxy’s also right that we can’t just assume we know what’s going on and get involved. If we do, we risk messing a  _ lot _ of things up, for ourselves and Fischbach and his friends.”

The chicken dropped her pen on the rabbit’s desk and leveled them all with stern eyes. Foxy realized that she was being serious; whatever was  _ maybe _ going on had her worried too. It made him feel even sicker. “We  _ don’t _ know them, we’re outsiders looking in. We  _ don’t _ know what’s going on, we  _ don’t know  _ so we shouldn’t get involved _. _ The most we should do at this point is watch for signs.”

_ Signs. _ His left hand twitched towards his right wrist where the scars of his childhood still remained, sitting right above the faux-fur fastening.  _ I refuse to believe this. Maybe one of them, possibly two of them- but three, four, or even  _ all _ of them? No way. _

Goldie’s earlier words flashed through his mind and he clung desperately to them.  _ Still hope. _

“Watch for signs?” he questioned, shaking his head slightly at them. “Haven’t we already established that when you get an idea your mind twists things to match it?”

Bonnie huffed, leveling him with a glare. Their chicken friend heaved an impatient sigh and she said, “Then don’t call ambiguous actions or conversations proof or signs.” Then she added a little softer, gentler, “Foxy, you should know this better than any of us.”

There is was, the elephant in the room. Out in the open, the thought he _knew_ they all had been thinking all along. Foxy, who lost his hand and gained a few scars from the things his own biological parents did to him nearly fifteen years ago- just barely within his own memory range- should have been the most concerned about potential… _abuse._ _If that’s what they’re even assuming._

But of course it was- he could see it in their eyes.

A few seconds of silence passed before he bit out, “Fine.”

“So wait,” Goldie suddenly spoke up, getting their attention. “Did we just agree to keep an eye on our  _ least favourite people in the entire school? _ ”

_ It seems that way, my friend, _ Foxy thought miserably, leaning back against the wall and subtly rubbing his wrist. His hand really ached.  _ Maybe I should take it off for now. _

“Pretty much,” Freddy confirmed Foxy’s thoughts before tacking on, “Just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean they deserve whatever’s happening.”

Foxy chose not to respond, simply watching his friends. He didn’t know  _ how _ to respond. 

“If anything at all,” Chica added warningly and Freddy nodded an agreement.

“If anything at all, yes.”

The silence fell again, becoming increasingly familiar to the fox, and then Goldie sighed and asked, “Keep an eye on our science partners, huh? What exactly are we watching for, anyway? Signs, but signs of what?”

Foxy frowned, staring down at his faux-fur prosthetic. It looked so real, honestly, that if one wasn’t looking closely they’d never notice where his smooth, soft fur became synthetic.  _ I don’t want to think about it. _

“Anything suspicious, I guess,” Bonnie answered hesitantly, voicing the words that hung silently in the air. The words all of them had been trying to ignore. “Things like… I dunno… depression, abuse, gang activity- you know, that kind of stuff.”

Not another word was said. Slowly, they all picked their pens back up and returned to their science packets. Foxy laid back down on his stomach, holding his own pen awkwardly as he stared at the words on the page. 

His hand still ached, but there was nothing he could do about it right then.

_ Abuse. _ That was the word that really got him.  _ Are there really people who don’t speak up about it? Even after all the seminars, the guest speakers, the counsellor’s class talks… are there really people who wouldn’t come forward with it? _

It was hard to imagine. He couldn’t remember much about his biological parents but he could remember the pain and the misery, the horrifying fear and the desire to  _ get away, get out, get help _ …

_ Would anyone actually put themselves through that for eighteen years straight? _

He didn’t want to believe anyone would. His grip tightened on his pen.  _ I need something else to think about. _

Bonnie spoke up at that moment, tearing away the tense silence surrounding them. Foxy was grateful for the distraction.

“What’s the answer for number eight?”

 


	5. Be careful of Watching Eyes, Mangle

“Thank you for your cooperation, class. Remember, these review packets need to be done by class Wednesday. You can use the next five minutes to talk amongst yourselves but I ask you don’t leave your desks, please.”

_ You are so not welcome. _

Mangle let out a sigh as Chii turned around in her seat to face them. Next to them, Jones and Sanchez turned to each other and their other friends, completely ignoring the duo. That was perfectly fine with Mangle.

“Are you alright?” Chii asked quietly, concern lacing her voice. Mangle gave her the best grin they could manage at the moment.

“Yeah,” they said, leaning back in their seat. “I don’t like that I can’t see the others, though.”

“Well, look on the bright side,” Chii started and Mangle snorted at the unintended joke, “you don’t have to see  _ them _ either.”

“True,” Mangle agreed, grinning and leaning forward again so they were only inches from Chii. “One of the perks of being me.” Chii giggled and smiled at them. “What about you, though?”

“I wish we weren’t separated from the others,” she admitted with a sigh, leaning back on her own desk.

_ “Me, pull a Mangle? Aw, c’mon, I’m not that cool, you know~” _ they heard Blu say across the room. Their first instinct was to say  _ damn straight _ , but they bit their lip before they could. Instead, they said, “I know. It  _ really _ sucks, yeah?”

“Totally. This class won’t end soon enough,” Chii complained, shifting slightly so she was sitting a little straighter.

“Well, at least it’s only fifty minutes long,” Mangle pointed out. “If we had fourth period with them then  _ that _ would not be fun.”

“Oh god please no,” Chii giggled, shaking her head. “I can handle fifty minutes but eighty?”

“Exactly.” Mangle honestly did not give a damn if Jones and Sanchez could hear them, but the two of them were talking about their planned weekend.  _ Movie marathon. Boring. _

Chii stretched her arms out across Mangle’s desk and glanced towards the other side of the room. Mangle wanted to follow suit but it wouldn’t do any good. “Spring seems to have cheered Blu up,” Chii noted, turning her gaze back to the fox. Mangle raised a brow at them.

“Cheered Blu up? Was something wrong?” they asked.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Chii promised, sighing. “But he didn’t look or sound too good earlier when I looked over. I’m surprised you didn’t hear him.”

“I was probably too busy with the jackass our  _ dear teacher _ partnered me with,” they snarked, looking darkly towards the green-haired man behind the desk.

“Well nothing we can do about it,” Chii sighed again. “All we can do is deal with it.”

They both glanced up when the bell rang but neither of them got out of their seats, allowing their lab partners to stand up first.

“Unfortunately,” Mangle agreed, closing their blind eye and sticking their tongue out at Chii in slightly-mock disgust. Chii giggled again and they grinned a her. “Time to put on a show~” they laughed, leaping up out of their seat despite the discomfort it sent coursing through their body.  _ Still not quite recovered from last night. _ They hitched their bag up on their shoulder and walked around Chii’s desk, grinning as they noticed Blu’s back to the front of the classroom.

“I’ll have you know that I am a proud hypocrite, thank you very much,” Blu was declaring as Mangle approached him. Mangle looped their arms around their shorter friend’s shoulders, leaning some of their weight on him. 

They didn’t dare lean too much of their weight on the smaller rabbit, though. They didn’t want to send both themself and him tumbling to the ground. Normally Blu could adjust easily to the extra weight on his back- he wasn’t exactly  _ weak _ , after all, and Mangle wasn’t exactly heavy in the first place- but Mangle knew the blue rabbit was injured and definitely feeling it, if the fact that he was favouring one leg was anything to go by.

Sighing dramatically, they said, “This was the most horrible thing I have ever gone through.” It was a complete and utter lie; the worst thing Mangle had ever gone through was probably losing their hand and the sight in their right eye.  _ That _ was a memory they definitely did not want to review though, so they tacked on, “Please tell me we have something to look forward to!”

“Well,” Spring started as he stood up, a slight grin slipping into place, “it’s lunch time and then we have art with Mr. Smith.”

Mangle glanced over towards Chii as she cheered, bouncing slightly in place. “Come on, let’s go claim our table before some freshmen get it,” she giggled, hitching her two bags up onto her shoulders. “I made lunch for all of us.” The white fox’s ears perked up and they grinned.

Then the tone changed as Chii glanced around, a frown appearing on her face. She leaned closer to them, as if to increase the amount of privacy they had in the now-empty room. “Are you guys alright?”

She was so concerned about them that it almost broke Mangle’s heart.  _ She tries so hard for all of us even when she has her own problems… _ They wished they could do something for her, but there was really nothing they were  _ able _ to do. They were as trapped as the others were.

“I think I may have really fucked up already,” Blu informed them, voice low after a glance around the room. Mangle’s ears twitched and they frowned, concerned as they watched their friends.

“Why?” Alfred asked simply, but the real words bled through anyway.  _ What happened? Are you all right? Do you need help? Is there anything we can do to help?  _ So concerned, so  _ protective _ , and all of them knew there was  _ nothing  _ they could truly do to help but offer their friend the support and comfort he was denied everywhere else.

Mangle couldn’t see the blue rabbit’s expression, but they could see the worry reflecting in Spring’s eyes as Chii said, “You looked like you almost had an episode.” Blinking, Mangle turned their gaze to their female friend. “I heard you kinda… at the, uh, future plans question,” the chicken explained softly, watching their friend in concern. “ I looked over at you and you looked pretty bad, Blu.”

“Oh… well, uh, Henderson said something that made me think about last night…” he trailed off and Mangle’s eyes met Spring’s over the shorter rabbit’s shoulders. Frowning slightly, Mangle let their arms slide away from Blu’s shoulders and they stepped around, turning to look at the struggling rabbit. They needed to see his face or else they might miss a crucial detail…

“It’s no big deal, though,” Blu suddenly dismissed, glancing aside. Mangle knew that wasn’t true. “It was a… really big slip-up but it doesn’t exactly say what happened. It’s not like he saw the bandages or something,” he added with a short laugh, causing Mangle to frown. “For all he knows anything could have triggered it, so, uh, yeah… What about you guys? Everything okay?”

It was a diversion. All of them knew it- but the conversation was far from over. For now, though, they would drop it. 

“Yeah,” Spring sighed, nodding slightly. “I didn’t have a panic attack so that’s something.”  _ That’s good. _ “Al?” They all turned to look at the bear, who blinked and frowned.  _ Looks like I wasn’t the one to zone out this time. _

Alfred shrugged slightly and headed towards the door finally. The rest of them glanced at each other before following. “I guess,” he finally answered.  _ I’m fine but something did happen. _ That was what those words meant. They would have to give Alfred time, though.

Mangle noticed them all turn their gazes to them as they all approached the cafeteria, so they shrugged and said, “I zoned out a couple times.” They then added, “But I wouldn’t count that as a fuck up, really.” 

Considering the fox  _ always _ zoned out, that was to be expected. So what if they zoned out? It was much nicer to get lost in their mind than live in the reality of that moment.  _ And what a beautiful scene I had escaped to… ah, such freedom... _

Suddenly they found themself sitting down in their usual seat next to the wall, all of their friends in front of and to their left in their line of sight, and they blinked, surprised.  _ Wait, did I zone out again? _

“So, all in all, horrible day?” Blu summarized, looking around at all of them from where he sat next to the white and pink fox.

Mangle might not have been paying attention for a few seconds there, but they said, “Absolutely,” in perfect unison with Spring and Chii. Mangle then decided to tack on, “Should’ve known the moment you lost your balance this morning that it would be,” with a soft, but dramatic, sigh as they took the container offered to them from Chii. It was quite a lovely fruit salad and they smiled gratefully at their friend.

“Yeah, sorry,” Blu apologized sheepishly and Mangle glanced over at him, frowning slightly; the rabbit had absolutely no reason to apologize for something he couldn’t really control. However, they chose not to voice this as the rabbit’s emerald eyes lit up at the sight of strawberries in his fruit salad and Mangle almost smiled.

It was actually sad that something so simple could make the rabbit so happy.

“Hurry up and eat so there’s time for dessert, boys and Mangle~” Chii sang, getting their attention. They watched as she pulled five more containers out of her back, each containing a decently-sized slice of what looked like strawberry-topped cake. Mangle grinned.

“Awesome!” Blu cheered from beside them. “Thanks, Chii, you’re the best.”

“Aw, my grandmother could have done so much better,” Chii insisted with a slight blush, just barely visible under her makeup and feathers. She added with a small grin towards the golden rabbit next to her, “Sorry, Spring, I would’ve gotten you chocolate cake but we don’t have any right now.”

Mangle snorted as Spring said, “That’s fine.” The golden rabbit then smirked towards Blu and Mangle already knew what the rabbit was about to say; “Chocolate might be  _ far  _ superior but this is good too~”

Blu pointed his fork at Spring and Mangle broke down laughing as he cried, “Now wait just a moment there, goldy-bun, ain’t  _ nothin’ _ superior to strawberry!”

“I beg to differ,” Chii giggled as she retook her seat, sharing a look with Alfred. “There  _ is _ something superior to strawberries.”

“Chocolate is not it, though,” Mangle declared with a snort, grinning towards Spring. “Not even close~!”

Now it was Spring’s turn to point dramatically at the fox as he cried out in mock-betrayal, “Treason!” Mangle immediately broke down into semi-hysterical laughter right along with their friends, only somewhat aware of the strange looks they were getting from the tables around. They didn’t care, though; this was such a rare moment, this carefree, playful yet  _ public _ moment at  _ school _ of all places, where they were all usually absolutely miserable. 

It was worth all the glares and eye rolls they would receive because  _ this  _ moment? Yeah,  _ this  _ moment beat all of their fantasy worlds… because this…  _ this _ was happening.  _ This _ was free.  _ This _ was happy.

_ This _ was real.

* * *

Things were still good when they made it through their study period and got to fourth period art. It was still good as they set up their own easels in preparation for the class, as they already knew exactly what was coming, and it was still good when Blu claimed a swivel stool and started spinning on it.

It was even better when Mangle and Spring exchanged a mischievous grin and bounded over to Blu, startling him as they spun him around faster. 

Their laughter blended together, so carefree and easy, that Mangle barely registered Alfred watching them, hovering nearby just in case something went wrong. They hardly noticed Chii keeping a safe distance away, at table that they always sat at. They hardly even noticed the red-haired human, watching them with a raised brow but doing nothing to stop them.

They were, however,  _ very _ aware when an annoyingly familiar voice groused, “Oh god dammit.”

Suddenly it was no longer good; the laughter abruptly cut off, Blu lost his balance, and Mangle’s eyes snapped to the doorway where the Fazcrew stood, watching them in either irritation or perplexion. Mangle scowled at them, making their displeasure clear, before turning to check on Blu. 

Alfred was helping him to his feet; he looked fine, but Mangle frowned in concern when they noticed his shirt had ridden up; his slightly-red tinged bandage was visible. However, Blu quickly fixed the problem and bounded over to the table, dropping down on Chii’s right with Alfred sitting down on Chii’s left and Spring sitting down on Blu’s right. It was, yet again, their usual set up.

Mangle slid into the seat next to the window, unconcerned with the fact that they could not actually see out the window. It didn’t really matter anyway, they mused as they turned to face their friends.

“So,” they started, getting all of their friends’ attention. “I think we should do something this weekend.”

Spring raised a brow. “We do something  _ every _ weekend, Mangle,” he pointed out with a small laugh. It was true; they spent every weekend together, if not every single day. They were all each others’ safety nets.

The blue rabbit on Spring’s other side snorted, “I think they mean something outside the house, Spring.” Blu turned his emerald gaze on Mangle and asked, “What’d you have in mind, Mangle?”

Remembering their earlier thoughts about going down to the lake, the fox grinned and leaned forward as if to share a secret- as if they  _ had _ any secrets they kept from their friends. They answered, “War by the water.”

A grin formed on Blu’s face as well and he glanced at Spring, saying, “Didn’t someone nearly fall in the lake last time we did that?” Spring blushed in embarrassment at the reminder and Mangle had to muffle a laugh. “Well it’s got my vote~!”

“Same,” Chii giggles as Alfred nodded, and Mangle grinned at them.  _ Got a majority already! _

“I can’t tell if you just want to see me fall in the lake this time or not,” Spring noted with a snort, shrugging slightly. He then smiled and said, “A day at the lake sounds fun, yeah. We could definitely use a little vacation.” Not vacation from school; vacation from reality. 

The air between them shifted suddenly as Spring hesitated, lifting a hand to gesture for them to lean in. Mangle scooted their chair just a bit closer, watching as Blu, Chii, and Alfred did the same. When they were all close, in the best imitation of a team huddle they could make in their line, Spring asked quietly, “What’ll be the excuses this time, though?”

“Research project?” was the first thing Chii said, nervously running her fingers through her feathers. Oddly enough, it was an excuse they didn’t use very often. “Tell them we have a project that’ll take all of Saturday?”

“Why not Sunday too? Make it an overnight thing,” Spring suggested, his bright green eyes scanning over all of them. “We could camp out in my back yard if it’s not raining.”

Mangle realized almost immediately that Spring was offering them a weekend free of pain. He suggested it often, but it was rare that any of them could convince their parents to allow it.  _ However, we  _ are _ seniors this year. They can’t do a damn thing… we’re all almost legal adults... _

“Um,” Blu started, raising a hand to get their attention. “My folks have been trying to get me to  _ drop out _ of school, I highly doubt they’ll care about me having a research project.”

_ Oh shit, that’s right. _ Ever since they entered high school, Blu’s parents had been trying to push him to drop out. His friends were the only reason he didn’t give in.

“Sneak,” Alfred offered, very simply. “Don’t need to know.” That was what they  _ usually _ did, but Mangle winced as they remembered what had happened last time Blu had been caught sneaking out. Spring’s panicked phonecall from the hospital had been unpleasant, to say the least.

“And if they come in at midnight to find me gone?” Blu questioned, raising a brow.

_ There’s a huge difference between being found gone and being caught sneaking out, _ Mangle mused to themself, and without even thinking about it they snorted and said, “They’ll be too drunk to even remember the next morning.” Quickly realizing their voice actually carried around the room, they dropped their level and continued with, “It might work for my parents, and even if it doesn’t it’s not like they even know where Spring’s house is.” They trained their gaze on the blue rabbit on Spring’s other side. “We can’t keep using the same old excuses, Blu, they’ll only work for so long.”

“Well, they only need to work for eight or nine more months,” Spring pointed out with a sigh.  _ Technically less than, _ Mangle added.  _ Your birthday is only a few months away and mine’s in less than one… _ “Then we’re out of this hellhole and off to freedom.”  _ Freedom… that sounds so nice… _

A thought suddenly hit Mangle.  _ Oh god please no… _ They took a deep breath in through their nose and started, “I’m not sure if my parents have, uh,  _ plans  _ for us this weekend, but-”

“Guys, shut up!” Blu hissed, shocking Mangle into silence. They turned to their blue friend with wide, surprised eyes.  _ What the fuck, bro? _

“Blu?” Spring questioned, his voice sounding as surprised as Mangle was sure they themself looked. Blu’s eyes flicked to the side and Mangle followed his gaze as subtly as they could with their blind eye towards the front of the room.

Henderson was watching them.  _ Henderson  _ was  _ watching  _ them _. _ And he looked  _ highly _ unimpressed, a single brow raised at them all.  _ What. The. Fuck. Turn around, rabbit, mind your own business! _

Mangle wanted to snarl at him but they chose instead to turn back to their own rabbit friends, who were whispering  _ very  _ quietly to each other. So quietly that Mangle couldn’t even pick up on their words, just the mumbled frustration.

Spring straightened up, subtly signalling them all to do the same, and said as casually as he could, “So, war by the water Saturday?” It sounded like they were just a normal group of friends making normal plans, but they weren’t normal in the least and everyone knew it. “And then camping in the back yard if weather permits?”

“Throw in a picnic and a jam session and I agree,” Blu stated with a grin and the others laughed. Mangle let out an overdramatic sigh.

“Oh Blu,” they started, leaning forward to set their hand on Blu’s shoulder, feeling only a little victorious as their hand made its mark on the first try, “haven’t you realized by now we will  _ always _ jam?” It was true; they  _ always _ played music somehow someway, no matter  _ what  _ happened. It was the one surefire way of easing them all and it was the biggest thing they had in common, their family lives not included. They were close without music and music simply brought them closer.

The bell shrieked and Mangle let their hand fall away from Blu’s shoulder, straightening up in their seat to face the front of the room again. “I think class is about to start,” Blu informed them, and Mangle just barely bit back the  _ thank you, captain obvious _ forming on the tip of their tongue. The red-haired Mr. Smith scanned the class, his grin widening slightly as they landed on Mangle and their friends.

It was always nice to see familiar faces, even if those familiar faces were the school weirdoes. Mangle smiled slightly and leaned on their hand, giving the teacher their attention… for now, anyway. 

“Everyone quiet down now! Up front, all eyes please, so we can get this over and done with and get started on having fun. Alright then, everyone settled? Good. I’m Fritz Smith and this is art…”

* * *

_ "And when the time comes for you and I to say goodbye, there’ll be no tears, for all these years have made you a part of me, and forever here you’ll be…” _

Their wooden faux-covered hand tapped out a gentle rhythm that the rabbits and Chii followed. Their eyes were closed, just enjoying the warmth of the day and the gentle swaying of the porch swing they were sitting in.

Currently, the group of friends was sitting on Spring’s expansive back porch, both rabbits strumming their guitar and Chii singing one of the songs they had written. It was actually meant to be a duet and had a piano accompaniment, but they all wanted to be outside to take advantage of the August heat and, apparently, Alfred didn’t feel like singing. None of them pushed the bear to sing, though; they understood that he was thinking things over in his mind. They were respectful of that.

“ _ And in my mind’s eye, I see that our goodbye means nothing, as the future has a place for you and me… side by side we’ll walk into tomorrow, hand in hand we’ll never be alone… _ ”

As Chii’s voice faded out, the rabbits let their respective parts fade as well and Mangle slowed down their tapping. Once it was over, Blu declared flatly, “I think my guitar’s out of tune.”

“We noticed,” Spring laughed, lightly nudging their smaller rabbit friend. Mangle snorted; they were pretty sure Spring and Blu were the only ones who noticed.  _ Chii might have… I wasn’t paying that much attention. _

They turned their gaze out towards the lake, just visible over the tree barrier at the edge of Spring’s property. There had once been a time when the property stretched all the way to the lake, but then the community decided to put a park  _ right there. _ Pissed Spring’s parents off, but Spring himself was more concerned with backyard privacy; he didn’t want strangers looking into their yard and seeing his younger brother playing. 

He did not trust people,  _ especially _ strangers.

Of course, none of them did. Mangle lightly brushed their hand through the faux fur on their right hand.

“Aw shut it, Spring,” Blu laughed, laying his guitar across his lap. “You know, I really like that song, ballad or not.”

“It’s not exactly a ballad,” Chii pointed out with a giggle and Mangle grinned, turning to look at their friend on the other side of Alfred.

“Well, it  _ could  _ be considered one,” they countered, stretching their arms above their head. “It tells a story in stanzas.”

“Not much of a story,” Chii snorted and Alfred chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well if someone had been singing their part,” Mangle started teasingly, grinning over at Alfred.

“Story doesn’t change,” Alfred retorted shortly, smirking slightly at Mangle. “Still the same.”

Across from them, Mangle heard Blu strumming his guitar.  _ Tuning it, _ they easily concluded, leaning back in the swing to look at the rabbits. It was a peaceful sight, really, seeing the two rabbits strumming their guitars. They looked happy.

“Spring!” a childish voice called, and all of them turned towards the yard to watch a small golden rabbit run over towards them. Plushie bounded up the steps and skid to a stop in front of his brother. “Springy, come dance with me!”

A strange expression crossed Spring’s face and Mangle started laughing right along with Blu and Chii.  _ Spring does not dance. _

“I don’t dance, though,” Spring pointed out with an awkward laugh, resting his arm across the face of his guitar. Plushie’s ears lowered, disheartened, and Spring quickly added, “Why don’t you ask Chii or Alfred?”

“I don’t dance,” Alfred immediately declared, giving Spring a look as Chii giggled.

“I’ll dance with you, sweetie,” Chii offered to the child, whose eyes instantly lit up at her words. 

“Yay!” he cheered, bouncing in place. Then he leapt down the steps and out into the yard again, happily turning around to look at the chicken. Chii laughed and stood up out of her spot, following the tiny rabbit out onto the grass.

“He’s so cute it hurts,” Blu laughed, tapping his fingers against his guitar. “I wish my leg wasn’t gimpy, I totally would’a volunteered. I  _ love _ dancing, unlike you two guys.”

Mangle grinned. “Dancing is so much fun~ We simply  _ must _ convert them, Blu,” they said, grinning over towards their taller friends.

“Oh no,” Spring started, pointing a finger at Mangle. “I still remember when you guys tried to convince me makeup  _ wasn’t _ completely horrible.”

Alfred snorted and bowed his head, as if attempting to hide his grin, and Mangle laughed right along with Blu. “But you looked so pretty!” Blu protested.

“Never again.”

“I think I still have the video,” Mangle informed Blu with a mischievous grin. Blu returned it.

“I want a copy.”

“Oh screw both of you,” Spring whined, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“Oh, goldy-bun, you wish~” Mangle teased, earning a snort and a scoff from the others. They grinned and turned their attention back towards the yard where Chii was “dancing” with Plushie, the two silly Animals just having a good time.

They sighed, closing their eyes and leaning back, simply listening as the two rabbits began playing again. 

At least for the moment, they were all right.


	6. Just Like Me, Foxy

It had bothered him all night Monday and all day Tuesday, and it had followed him into Tuesday night as well.

Bonnie’s words. Freddy’s words. _Chica’s_ words.

 _People don’t stay in dangerous situations- not like that,_ he told himself again as he stared through the darkness towards his ceiling. It was a little past midnight and he couldn’t sleep. _Anyone would get themselves out of there by this point._

_Wouldn’t they?_

He had been watching them. The entire group, that is- he was never close enough to simply watch Blanc. It was either all or none... but he _did_ notice oddities specific to Blanc; how natural it seemed for the fox to zone out, how their friends seemed to compensate for them when they did, how the white and pink fox always stood at the very right of the group, how any one of the other four would sometimes reach out and tug on the fox’s shoulder as if pulling them out of the way...

And that hand. It kept echoing in his mind; he had almost forgotten about it... that strange sound it had made as it landed on the desk...

 _Then_ there was the way they dressed. _Who wears a turtleneck in summer?_

_That fox is such a fucking weirdo._

With a growl, Foxy turned over and pulled his blanket up over his head. _Stop thinking about it! They’re a bunch’a weirdoes, that does_ not _mean they’re all bein’ abused or somethin’ like that. Bonnie’s just gettin’ to you._

However, he couldn’t shake that feeling of dread in his stomach. Because... _What if Bonnie’s right?_

_What if Bonnie’s right and no one does anything?_

He stared at the place his hand would have been had he been taken away sooner. The wrist that just cut off, leaving no indication that he had ever had a hand in the first place. The only evidence of his past.

 _What if there_ are _people out there who don’t know there’s another choice? Who choose to stay despite the pain? What if those freaks really_ are _in trouble?_

 _No,_ he instantly denied, growling to himself. _There’s another explanation, of course. Roughhousin’, wrong place wrong time, trippin’ and fallin’-_

They all sounded like excuses even in his own mind, and it only made the feeling worse.

He thought about how the small group acted; always together, always looking around before they dropped into whispers, always staying so... _separate_ from everyone. They were so... _isolated_ without being... stand-offish... always disinterested, disengaged and unaware of everyone but each other, yet at the same time aware of _everything._ They seemed just fine with each other, but they seemed to keep a fair distance between themselves and everyone else- almost as if they shied away from an unfamiliar touch. It was... odd. It was...

It was suspicious.

Foxy had never really noticed it before, and now that he thought about it... he couldn’t dismiss it. What had simply been oddities to dislike them for were suddenly reasons to feel suspicious, paranoid... _afraid._

He didn’t like it. He didn’t want to get involved... but now he _couldn’t stop thinking about it._ Because they had been this way for years.

Finally, he groaned and sat up, staring miserably across his bedroom. Several seconds of silence passed before he reached out to his bedside table and grabbed his hand. _I can’t believe I’m doin’ this._

Securing the hand into place, he flexed its fingers to test and nodded in satisfaction. Then he climbed out of bed and crossed over to his desk beneath the window overlooking the garden. Kneeling down, he tugged open his bookbag and frowned into the mess of papers already gathering, and then he reached inside and began rooting through the pages. It took him about half a minute before he located the desired sheet, but when he did he tugged it out and walked back to his bed, dropping down on it and frowning at what he held in his hand.

It was the questionnaire.

_I can’t believe I’m doin’ this. What the hell am I s’posed to say if they even answer? It’s past midnight, they’re probably asleep! And what? Do I demand to know what’s goin’ on? Ha, Foxy, that’s a good one- like they’d ever tell ya! Blanc is one of Springtrap’s group- they don’t like ya. At all._

_This is so stupid._

Still, he found himself picking his phone up. He found himself unlocking his phone and typing in that number, glancing down at it on the page as he did so- _346-9882_. He found himself lifting the phone to his ear, mostly hoping that the other fox _wouldn’t_ answer.

It rang once... twice... three times.. it kept ringing, and then it was picked up by voicemail. He was about to hang up before he paused, deciding to listen to what the fox’s message was. Maybe he could get some sort of insight from it.

“Hey!” Blanc’s voice called out, much more animated than they had been with Foxy. Actually, it was a lot more animated than Foxy had ever heard even in passing- a lot brighter, cheerier even. They sounded actually... happy. There were voices in the background but Foxy couldn’t pick up on the words, so he focused on Blanc’s voice. “Sorry, can’t come to the phone right now, but if it’s important I’ll ring ya later.”

“Mangle?” another voice cut in, close enough to understand. “What’re you doing?”

“Springy! You’re messin’ up my voicemail message!”

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing?” the voice- _Salvage,_ he realized- laughed, his voice taking on a teasing tone that Foxy had never heard before. He struggled to connect it to the rabbit. “No wonder your-”

Whatever Salvage had been about to say next was cut off by a beep. Foxy hung up then; he had nothing to say, after all.

With a sigh, he dropped his phone back on his bedside table. _Stupid Foxy, of course they won’t answer at half past midnight. Thank god. Make up your mind, Foxy, involved or uninvolved..._

Setting the page next to his phone, he fell back on his bed and frowned up at the ceiling.

_It’s still none of my business. Fuck’s sake... I need some sleep._

* * *

Foxy was proud to say that he had managed to completely shove the issue to the far side of his mind during gym the next day. Even as he felt himself crash down to the ground, his head colliding painfully with one of the football athletes, the fox hadn’t crossed his mind even once. As he complained to his friends later, laughing with them and making jokes about it, he had not a single thought about it.

That came to a screeching halt the moment he stepped into third period to find all five absent students sitting there in silence; Rodriguez leaned on his hand, Salvage laid his head on his desk, Fischbach just stared blankly ahead, Kain gazed at her desk, and Blanc just looking out the window, their leg bouncing up and down under the desk. They were dead silent, a heavy, bleak air about them which seemed to affect even the bubbly human girls across the room.

Finding himself _completely_ unable to continue speaking, Foxy just silently went to his desk, watching the white and pink fox as he approached. He could only catch a glimpse of their distant expression and glazed eyes before he had to slide into his seat, sharing a look with his friends.

Blanc fidgeted and shifted in their seat, but their gaze stayed firmly on the window. Their right hand simply laid, unmoving, on the desk. It seemed almost... _heavy_ as it just _laid_ there.

Foxy jumped slightly as the bell rang and he turned his gaze back to the front, where Dr. Schmidt stood and looked around with a smile.

 _The fuck?_ Foxy blinked, completely shocked. _How the hell are you smilin’ when it feels like someone died in here?!_

“Alright, class! Homework!” Dr. Schmidt called, clapping his hands. Beside him Blanc winced, but obediently they turned to their bookbag. Foxy did the same, rifling through the mess of papers he had noticed last night until he yanked the packet out. He scowled slightly, barely registering the “pass it up and I’ll collect it at the front” as he looked up to meet Chica’s gaze. Wordlessly, he handed the packet over to her and leaned back, turning to look away from her.

His gaze landed on Goldie and Freddy, who were at that moment staring at each other, wide-eyed. It looked almost as if they’d seen a ghost or something. Goldie quickly turned around and Foxy watched, frowning, as he handed off his and his brother’s packets to Bonnie.

Dr. Schmidt collected the packets quickly, pausing only at Rodriguez to give him a strange look, but then he had moved on without asking questions. Once the papers were collected, he turned to his students.

“Now that we’ve got the homework out of the way,” the instructor started, looking around at all of his disinterested students, “let’s talk about your first lab. You won’t be working on it until Friday, as today we’ll be doing the lecture first, but in it you will be observing how the steel wool reacts to the fire.”

Foxy had to physically bite his tongue to hold back an incredulous laugh. _The steel wool? We did that in, like, freshman or sophomore year. Everyone knows how it works! The hell, doc? Then again, it_ is _the first lab of the year... must be wantin’ to start us on somethin’ easy._

He glanced over towards Blanc, frowning. Dr. Schmidt was explaining the lab, but Blanc looked like they were paying zero attention; their eyes seemed to be glued to the window. Why the instructor didn’t say anything, Foxy had no idea, but he wasn’t about to bring it up.

Frustratedly, Foxy opened his notebook and began writing down the human’s words. He didn’t _really_ hear the man, but he heard enough to write down the words. _I can look at them later._

The lecture continued undisturbed for all of three minutes before the instructor’s words cut off and Dr. Schmidt asked, “Yes, Mr. Salvage?”

Looking up, Foxy turned his attention to the rabbit. “May I step out for a moment?” the rabbit asked politely, his voice small and wavering and completely unlike anything Foxy had ever heard.

His grip on his pencil tightened.

“Of course,” Dr. Schmidt allowed, and Salvage was practically out the door before Foxy could blink, answering the phone in his hand just moments before the door was shut.

Quickly, Foxy turned back, glancing to his left to see Blanc staring intently at the door, then turning to look at the chicken in front of them, who had turned around in her seat. The two seemed to share a silent conversation with one another, one that Foxy was completely unable to understand.

“Mr. Rodriguez, face the front please,” Dr. Schmidt commanded, and Kain turned to face forward again, as if wanting to remain unnoticed by the doctor. Blanc’s eyes dropped to the desk, a frustrated scowl crossing their face as their hand tightened into a fist.

They fidgeted and shifted, moving so that their left leg was tucked underneath them- but then they grimaced, as if in pain, and quickly dropped their leg back to the floor, leaning forward as if seeking some form of relief.

The fox seemed completely oblivious to Foxy’s gaze.

Deciding that he needed a distraction, Foxy flipped to a new page and scrawled down, **Why did Freddy & Goldie look so freaked out?** He scanned over the short note, silently scolding himself for thinking Chica might have the answer, but still he tore the page out- quietly, of course- and folded it, and then he poked the eraser of his pencil against his female friend’s back.

He watched as Chica slipped her hand behind her, and he quickly slid the folded paper into her hand.

Chica quickly and quietly unfolded the note, reading over it. It felt a little ridiculous- seventeen-going-on-eighteen and still passing notes in class?- but he _needed_ something to distract himself with. It was a few moments later that the door opened again and Dr. Schmidt’s attention was diverted to the rabbit, who went to the instructor to have a whispered conversation with him.

Foxy raised a brow. He wasn’t able to hear the conversation, but Blanc shifted next to him and he could hear a low hum from the fox- _they sound worried-_ which told him that Blanc knew _exactly_ what was going on. In fact, glancing around he found all four of Salvage’s friends wore similar, tight expressions, their eyes on the golden rabbit.

 _All of them know what’s happening here,_ he realized, ear twitching as the note landed on his desk. Turning his attention away from the maybe-not-so-odd-after-all students, he picked the paper up and unfolded it, frowning at the predicted response.

**Idk I guess something happened. We’ll ask later.**

_Sorry, lass, but I think there’s somethin' else I’d rather know,_ he thought, sliding the paper in the back of his notebook and looking up to find Salvage slipping out the door again, bookbag on. _Oh, he’s leavin'._

A glance back towards Blanc showed that the moment the door had closed, the fox had turned back to the window. Their ears were down and their hand just _sat there_ while their tail twitched back and forth, their legs bounced up and down- _Kain’s doing it too,_ he noted- and their left hand rubbed absently at their thigh.

 _Something about that hand..._ It was so obvious, he realized, dropping his gaze to the hand sitting on the desk. His eyes scanned over that hand, noting the way the fingers curled- _a little off, a little stiff-_ and how, just barely, he could make out a line...

His own hand ached, and quickly he turned away, his heart beating too fast as his own left hand clamped over his right wrist, just barely able to feel the difference between his fur and the faux fur.

_It’s a prosthetic._

It was as simple as that. Blanc’s right hand didn’t seem right because _they don’t have a right hand, either._

 _For fuck’s sake, how long has that been a thing?_ He closed his eyes, clenching his teeth in agitation- not with anyone else but with himself. _I should have realized immediately, right off the bat. For fuck’s sake, I’m an idiot._

 _No,_ he immediately countered, forcing himself to relax. _No, you were just never payin’ attention. And don’t get so worked up- most people who lose their hands lose them in_ extremely _different circumstances._

_Maybe it was an accident. Them missin’ a hand don’t mean anything._

Opening his eyes, Foxy let his eyes trail over to the clock on the other side of the room. As he did so, a quick scan of the room revealed... _no one_ was paying attention.

Not even Freddy, and _that_ was downright shocking.

Dr. Schmidt’s voice had lost its luster, now better reflecting the heavy tone hanging over his students. If Foxy hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought someone just died.

 _Maybe someone might as well have,_ he thought dully, letting his head fall down onto his desk. _This will take forever..._

Forever it did take- at least in Foxy’s mind. As class crawled by, he counted every single fidget the fox next to him made, every little detail to the way they moved and every strange little humming sound they made.

The bell ringing felt like a blessing, and he quickly slid his notebook into his bag before standing up. Chica and Bonnie headed out the door as Blanc and Kain swept past Foxy, making their way over to their friends. Foxy shared a frown with Goldie before following Chica and Bonnie out of the door, pretending not to notice the way Blanc and their friends watched them oh so suspiciously, gathered by Fischbach's desk. In Salvage's absence, it appeared that the bear became the leader.

“Weird,” he heard Chica mumbling as he and the Fazbear brothers caught up to them, walking in the direction of the cafeteria. “What-”

“Not here,” Bonnie interrupted their friend. Foxy frowned, but as he heard giggles and raucous laughter he understood. _Anyone can overhear us._

They couldn’t say a word about what just happened or anything they noticed... not without the entire school finding out about it.

Foxy scowled, tapping his wood-and-metal hand against his leg. _Fucking hell._ He didn’t complain, though, instead taking his seat next to Chica at their table, ignoring the athletes sitting with them.

The silence that fell around them was awkward and heavy. Desperate to find something to break it with, Foxy started, “So... that movie marathon this weekend...”

“I dunno,” Goldie mumbled, gaining Foxy’s attention. “I don’t think I’m feeling up to a marathon anymore.”

“Same,” Freddy sighed in agreement, and Foxy hated to admit that he agreed too. His heart just wasn’t in it anymore. “Why don’t we save the marathon for a different weekend?”

_That sounds good. A different weekend- a better weekend..._

“I think,” Bonnie started as they all took the offered food from Chica, each giving her a nod of thanks, “that we should... I dunno... go to the park?”

It sounded like a suggestion, but to Foxy it was more like a request. Foxy frowned and shrugged, looking away. He knew exactly why Bonnie wanted to go to the park.

_War by the water._

“Which park?” Goldie asked, curious. Of course _he_ didn’t know- at the time _that_ particular conversation happened, Goldie couldn’t have known.

“The one with the lake,” Bonnie replied. “Not pond, but the actual lake.”

“You mean Lakeview Park?” Chica questioned, and Foxy frowned as a thought suddenly hit him.

_Wait, why in the world would those five be at Lakeview Park? It’s not the only park with water, they could easily have their “war” anywhere else..._

“Why would we go all the way out there? It’s a little far from our houses,” the chicken continued at Bonnie’s apparent confirmation. He glanced up to find Bonnie’s gaze firmly attached to the ceiling, not meeting any of their eyes.

“Yeah but we’re planning on going to New York and that is _way_ far from our houses,” Bonnie countered, not looking down. _He doesn’t want to tell them..._ “Besides, it’s a good park.”

“Aye,” Foxy mumbled, averting his gaze to the rest of the cafeteria. Across the way he could see what remained of Salvage’s little group, sitting together and whispering quietly amongst themselves, leaning in close together. None of them seemed to be eating a thing. “That it is...”

“Right,” Chica agreed, her tone suspicious. However, before she could even begin questioning Bonnie, a new voice reached them.

“Yeah, I saw him in the office,” a cheerleader- _or is she a softball player? Can’t be bothered to care-_ at their table was saying, laughing with her friends. “Guess he didn’t do his homework or something, must’ve gotten in trouble.”

 _And that,_ Foxy realized miserably, _is why we can’t talk about this._

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” the boy across from the cheerleader-or-maybe-softball-player laughed. “Springtrap was never that good a student.”

Foxy glanced at his friends, noticing the look the twins shared and the way Bonnie was scowling, his eyes glaring up towards the ceiling. Chancing a look at Chica, he noticed she was tense. He shifted uncomfortably and bit his tongue; there was nothing they could say, after all.

_Irony’s a bitch. We started this, but we can’t end it..._

* * *

Not for the first time, Foxy felt himself fidgeting and simply _bursting_ as they walked through the crowded parking lot. They were walking slowly, being easily passed by faster, more eager students, never having a moment to themselves.

 _I can’t wait,_ he thought, fidgeting with his hand and glancing towards Bonnie. _I gotta know. Why, why is this botherin’ me so much?_

The moment no one was within earshot, he as casually as possible asked, “So, Bonnie... Mind telling us what that was about?”

It occurred to him as the rabbit looked at him, brow furrowed, that maybe he wasn’t exactly clear enough. “What?” the rabbit questioned, confirming Foxy’s suspicion.

“During science,” he explained, turning to look at his friend with a raised brow.

“Oh,” was Bonnie’s oh so brilliant answer. Foxy observed his friend’s expression turned thoughtful, a small frown tugging at his lips. “He apparently had a family emergency and had to go pick someone up,” he explained with a shrug before adding, “Apparently it was an hour away, so there was no way he would make it back to school for the rest of classes.”

Foxy frowned and looked ahead again. He could see Goldie’s van from there.

"It sounded like he already had an arrangement with the school,” Bonnie continued unexpectedly, prompting Foxy to glance back at him. “Dr. Schmidt looked and sounded like he already knew what was going on the moment he saw Salvage’s hand.”

 _He’s right,_ Foxy realized, letting his gaze fall to the ground as he thought about it. _Dr. Schmidt didn’t ask any questions at all._

“He was holding his phone,” Goldie needlessly informed them, and Foxy had to bite his tongue so the _yeah, we know_ didn’t slip out. “I heard it vibrate but he had it out of sight before I could actually _see_ it.”

_Sly rabbit._

“So,” Chica sighed, stopping by the driver’s-side rear door of Goldie’s van, “Salvage had to leave for a family emergency. That makes sense.” Foxy, standing next to her, noticed her gaze fall on Freddy over the roof of the van. “But what was up with y’all at the very start? Freddy, ya looked like someone just keeled over and died right in front of ya.”

“Might as well have,” both brothers snorted humourlessly as Goldie unlocked the van. Then Freddy glanced around, and Foxy was struck by how... _familiar_ that sight was. The bear leaned forward a bit, his voice dropping into a whisper as he told them, “There was a bloodstain on Fischbach’s homework. Tried to excuse it as ketchup.”

Foxy’s amber eyes caught Chica’s and they shared a frown. However, none of them could say more as a junior varsity group passed by, giggling and laughing about... who knows what. Foxy found himself looking past Chica, watching them pass with his teeth pressed against his tongue.

Then Goldie cleared his throat, startling Foxy into looking at him. When all of them were looking at the golden bear, he glanced inside his open door. “I don’t think a parking lot is the best place for this conversation,” he stated matter-of-factly, and Foxy knew he was right.

Quickly, Foxy climbed in, dropping onto the bench-seat in the back. He sat center, so that he could see all of his friends, and quickly snapped the belt into place. Once Goldie’s door closed, the bear added, “Anyone could hear us out there, ya know.”

“Yeah,” Bonnie agreed as he settled down in the seat behind Freddy. The rabbit buckled his own seatbelt and pulled the door shut. However, it was only as the van roared to life that he continued speaking. “So Salvage had to run out in the middle of class, Fischbach’s homework was bloodstained, and Rodriguez had a big ugly bruise on his face.” _Really? Geez, even being snoopy and suspicious I still miss shit._ “Anything up with Kain and Blanc today?”

 _What can I say?_ he wondered, sitting back in his seat. For some reason, he didn’t want to tell them what he had realized- not yet, anyway. He didn’t want to tell them that Blanc was just like him. Absently, he rubbed his right wrist as he said, “Blanc wouldn’t sit still. They were really out of it, too.” Not that that was new; it seemed to be a thing with the fox. “Only tuned in long enough to watch Salvage leave and went right back to starin’ out the window.”

Kain didn’t do much,” Chica told them simply, though her tone was somewhat off- thoughtful, maybe. “Kinda just sat there, starin’ at her desk. Seemed tense but nothin’ really _off,_ per se.”

Foxy didn’t agree, remembering the way the chicken had looked back at Blanc. _Maybe the lass missed that._

“Still think we’re misunderstandin’ the situation?” Freddy asked after several moments, and Foxy’s grip on his wrist tightened.

_Somethin’s goin’ on but that doesn’t mean it’s... it’s..._

_Blanc is just like me- no they’re not, they’re different. Very different. Yet..._

“There’s always a chance,” Goldie suddenly answered, though his voice was somewhat flat and disbelieving. Foxy closed his eyes.  “But I don’t think we are... not anymore, anyway...”

“I don’t think we know _exactly_ what’s going on,” Chica added with a sigh, clearly unsure about anything anymore- because now not even Foxy was denying that something was going on. “I honestly don’t think there’s one flat answer to this, guys. Somethin’s goin’ on but I just don’t think we have the full story.”

_That’s true._

“It’s only the third day of school,” Bonnie pointed out, and Foxy frowned because _that’s not true._ “The third day we’re actually paying any attention, anyway.” _Better._

“We’re bound to notice something if there’s anything else,” Chica concluded, and Foxy nodded absently in agreement as he stared at his hand.

 _We’re bound to notice somethin’... like fake hands and bloody bandages and suspicious bruises- fuck, Foxy,_ stop _it, you sound like Bonnie now._

“Maybe we should talk to them about it?” Freddy suddenly spoke up. Sitting upright, Foxy’s gaze snapped to the front. Immediately his attempted phonecall came to mind- _and how well would_ that _have gone over if they had answered?!_

 _“Talk_ to them?! Are you _crazy,_ Fazbear?!” he demanded hotly, his amber eyes on the younger twin. “It’s one thing watchin’ ‘em from a distance but actually gettin’ _involved-_ at that point we might as well just call the cops!”

_But weren’t you tryin’ just last night? Hypocrite._

“We can’t,” Goldie stated flatly, almost surprising Foxy. He had hardly even realized Goldie was still paying attention. “We’re in unfamiliar ground, Foxy. Besides, I don’t think you call up the cops to say “I think one of my classmates is gettin’ knocked around” or somethin’.”

_I wasn’t sayin’ actually call them!_

“The CPS,” Chica suggested dully, and Foxy clenched his fist.

 _The CPS did fuck-all for me, what makes you think they could help here? Besides, who the_ hell _said the parents have anything to do with this?!_

“They _usually_ give prior warning,” Bonnie informed them, easily dismissing the thought. “They’re not good at hidin’ it but I get the feelin’ they’re damn good at hidin’ the _tracks."_

It took Foxy a moment to realize he was talking about Blanc and company, not the CPS. _A little warning next time?_

“Then what _can_ we do?” Foxy asked. _Well, nothing you idiot, don’t get involved!_ “We _can’t_ talk to them." He lifted his left hand, counting off on his fingers. "One, we don’t like them. Two, they don’t like us. Three, we _still_ don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on.”

“It wouldn’t kill us to be more friendly towards them,” Freddy started, his tone suddenly taking on warning. Foxy flinched, unsure of just _why._ “Besides, _I_ don’t dislike them,” the bear continued. _“I’ve_ always been neutral on this subject. The only reason _they_ don’t like _us_ is because you lot all started actin’ aggressive towards them. I clearly remember them bein’ neutral about us until they finally noticed.”

It was true, and it made Foxy kind of... angry. _I know we can’t take it back but what the_ hell, _Freddy? You never gave ‘em a chance either, don’t act innocent in this! Just because ya didn't actively try and mess with 'em doesn't make you any more innocent than us-!_

“Arguin’ won’t do us any good,” Chica interrupted, clearly agitated with them. “How about this, let’s compromise.”

The first time she had suggested a compromise, it had been easily accepted. This time, however...

“Compromise?” Bonnie repeated incredulously, his tone turning harsh. “What’s there to _compromise_ about? Someone’s gettin’ hurt, when someone’s hurt you fucking _help_ them, whether you like them or not!”

Foxy felt like that was a jab at him. He scowled, but he didn’t get a chance to respond as Chica said, “Has it occurred to you that the best way to _help_ may be to _not_ get involved?” That... didn’t quite make sense to Foxy, but he didn’t want to get involved no way so he felt inclined to agree. _Hypocrite._ “They’re always together, clearly they’re just as close as us five are. They don’t need us when they have each other.”

It was sensible, at least Foxy thought so. Bonnie, on the other hand, seemed to strongly disagree.

“Oh yeah,” the rabbit snorted, clearly unimpressed. When he spoke again, his voice was full of forced, fake joy, and it _highly_ annoyed Foxy. “Yeah, let Rodriguez rely on Fischbach, both of whom have _bled_ in the last three days. Or better yet, let them rely on Blanc- the kid who barely pays any attention to where they’re going. Or Salvage, who’s apparently having family problems and is having to play the role of _parent_ already.”

_Play the role of parent..._

He didn’t get a chance to ask as Chica’s warning was cut off, Bonnie continuing with, “Their foundation is unstable, Chica. Face it. What happens to houses built on unstable foundations? They _collapse.”_

 _Oh great, metaphors,_ he mentally groaned, narrowing his eyes at Bonnie. _What are you gettin' at..._

“These are people, Bonnie, not houses,” Chica started, but she couldn’t continue as Bonnie, once again, rudely cut her off.

“What happens if Rodriguez gets killed, Chica?” Foxy clenched his fists. _Stop it, Bonnie. Just stop it!_ “Or Fischbach- or _any_ of them? What then? If it takes all _five_ of them to be an _unstable_ foundation, what happens when _one_ of them falls?” The rabbit didn’t even give any of them a chance to respond. “They _all_ fall, that’s what!”

The implication was cold and blunt, and it sent a chill down Foxy’s spine- and not a good chill, either.

_Blanc is just like me._

“You don’t know that,” he automatically responded, his voice no more than a mumble. He fidgeted. _Are they really?_ “You’re suggestin’ things again, Bonnie. Things that might not be true at all.”

“They’re troubled,” Goldie spoke up quietly as he pulled into the driveway, “but they’re not... _that_ troubled, are they?”

“That’s what we need to find out,” Freddy answered his brother, his voice soft again. “The simple fact of the matter is _we don’t know._ And that’s a problem.”

For a moment it looked like Freddy was about to open his door, but then he paused and turned in his seat, looking around at all of them. The intensity in those blue eyes froze Foxy to his spot, his heart beating painfully hard- because he knew exactly what the bear was about to say.

_Just like me..._

“I don’t know about you,” the bear started, his eyes scanning over all of them still, “but I don’t want to keep being one more crack in their foundation. If their foundation, as Bonnie is suggesting, is unstable and _breaking_...” he paused and Foxy mentally begged him not to say the words that he knew were coming- the words that would change their “deal” into something else. Something much more personal.

“I don’t want to be the thing that breaks it.”

With that, Freddy opened his door and slid out, heading towards the house. It left the four of them in silence, Foxy’s stomach twisting in guilt and horror.

_I’m such a fuckin’ hypocrite._

“I don’t either,” Bonnie muttered before yanking his door open and jumping out, not even glancing back as he made his way after Freddy. Foxy’s ears flattened- that wasn’t surprising, of course, but it made him squirm uncomfortably to know that...

For the first time in a long time, something had come between him and his friends.

He barely registered Goldie getting out. The golden bear didn’t say a word, but Foxy didn’t need to hear his decision; the silence said it well enough.

Leaning over, Foxy rubbed his forehead. “I’m such a fuckin’ hypocrite,” he finally grumbled aloud, voicing his guilt for the first time.

_Why is this happening?_

“Why d’ya say that?” Chica asked, her voice oddly gentle. He could hear the _click_ of her belt and the door opening slowly.

“Because I’ve already tried to talk to Blanc,” he confessed, not daring to look up at his friend.

“What?” She was surprised and confused- and maybe even a little betrayed, though Foxy couldn’t be sure. He closed his eyes, thinking about how he had just stared at his phone, debating with himself- _get involved, don’t get involved-_ and how his resolve had slipped for just a minute... long enough to find himself dialing that number.

_I guess in the end my mind was already made up, huh?_

“I tried callin’ ‘em last night,” he told Chica, sighing as he dropped his hand into his lap and glanced up at her. He hit his seatbelt’s release as he did so. “They didn’t pick up, but still I already tried what the others’re suggestin’, and now I’m over here gettin’ mad about ‘em wantin’ to do what I already tried.”

She didn’t respond, so he dropped his gaze again. “It’s just been botherin’ me,” he said, picking his bag up just to have something to do with his hands. “Somethin’ isn’t right with that fox, and I can’t help but think it’s a lot more than them bein’... imaginative, or whatever.”

“So...” Chica started, her voice laced with confusion, “you actually agree with them, despite havin’ been arguin’ _against_ them.”

Looking up, Foxy shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to get involved,” he clarified. “Somethin’ isn’t right and I do think those...” He paused- calling them weirdoes didn’t feel right, not anymore. Not when that entire time it was all just a silent cry for help- one that went completely ignored by _everyone._ “Er, Salvage and his friends need help, but I don’t think we have a right to even _think_ about _trying_ to be that help.”

In that moment he said it, he realized it was true; that was _exactly_ how he felt. They didn’t have a right to try and approach their classmates- because hadn’t they been the ones who took from them their chances of anyone noticing?

_Then again, even without our interference they’d be distant..._

Chica ran a hand through her feathers, clearly considering his words. Foxy felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach; she looked conflicted. “If not us, then who?”

 _No one,_ he realized immediately, ears flattening. _No one has that right. But they need someone._

“I don’t know,” he answered miserably, meeting her magenta eyes. He could practically see the thoughts going through her mind.

_The others are gonna try anyways... and if we don’t, we might ruin their chances at succeeding._

_Oh god..._

Chica grabbed her bag, giving him one last meaningful glance, and he could see the resolve in her eyes.

He felt sick.

“Then I guess we’ll just have to do,” she declared, and then she was out of the van and gone.

Foxy’s gaze fell to his right hand. Several seconds of silence passed as he turned it over, frowning to himself.

_Just like me._

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly, clenching the prosthetic into a fist. “I guess we will.”

With that, he moved towards the door Bonnie had left open and slid out, gently closing the door behind him. He glanced at the overcast sky.

It was fitting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can't tell, Foxy's really fighting with himself on this. He's wrong but he's scared, the poor bab. And guilty, to boot.


	7. Let it Rain, Mangle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’know, because their home lives are really important to this story I would love to make Blu and Mangle’s (and Chica’s) characters more, uh... real, I guess, and actually use French and Spanish since those are the languages they speak at home... y’know, instead of saying “he said in Spanish,” because really, does that feel real at all? Unfortunately... I only speak English and am in the process of learning German (I can understand very basic German and read it pretty proficiently but writing it and speaking it I can’t do) and the only friend I have that speaks Spanish fluently... doesn’t really like FNaF. At all. In faaact she, uh, kinda hates it.
> 
> I don’t want to butcher the languages by using Translate so I’m just gonna stick with this for now. Maybe in the future, if I ever believe I’m proficient enough in either of these languages or have someone to help, I’ll come back and change it (and have translations in the notes in the bottom), but until then… yeah.

“Don’t you _ever_ disobey us again, you little shit! Remember who you belong to, next time I won’t let you off so easy!”

Mangle winced as the door to their bedroom slammed shut and the lock was turned outside, effectively locking them inside. Slowly, they sat up and climbed off of their bed. Their legs protested, the thin marks stinging as the skin around them stretched.

They could feel their blood beading along the thin cuts as they stumbled across their bedroom to their bookbag, quickly unzipping it and rooting around inside for their compact mirror. They breathed harshly as tears gathered in their eyes, but stubbornly they wiped them away.

_I won’t give those fuckers the satisfaction._

Pulling out the old, battered compact, they sat down heavily on the floor and flipped it open, aiming the mirror towards the underside of their thighs.

The white fox breathed in sharply as they looked at the multiple thin cuts bleeding into their otherwise pristine fur, and already the stinging red from where the switch had hit was showing through.

Taking a deep breath in through their nose, Mangle lightly touched the reddening, sore area and winced. _Looks like the bastard got me good this time..._

It wasn’t like Mangle didn’t _try_ to protest. It was just that protesting made him hit them harder.

“Oh father dear,” they muttered darkly, snapping their mirror shut and dropping it back into their bag, “how I would so like to claw your _fucking_ eyes out...”

They didn’t get up; the first aid kit was in their bathroom, hidden in a hole behind the broken picture frame they kept hanging on the wall. There was nothing they could do yet, so instead they let themselves fall back onto the cold wooden floor to stare up at the chipped ceiling.

Outside, they could hear the wind whistling through the trees surrounding the house. _Oh to be free like the wind... To be able to go wherever whenever I want... to take revenge when I could and let be where I should... to just fly away from all my troubles... to take others’ troubles away..._

It was a fantasy, and desperately they latched onto it, closing their eyes and taking in a deep breath. The scent of blood faded away as they blocked out everything around them; the argument downstairs disappeared, the creaking of the house disappeared, the chill of the floor beneath their back disappeared... and all that they were left with was the whistling of the wind, the rustling of the trees, and an empty void of darkness, stretching on into nowhere and forever.

Deep in their mind, Mangle danced through that void, moving with the wind as a whole new world materialized around them; nearby, the lake flooded into existence, and all around them grass sprouted from the emptiness. The sun rose over the horizon, painting the sky all sorts of oranges and reds and blues... and, as they stopped spinning, the fox found themself looking up the hill towards a large oak tree, a picnic basket on a purple and pink blanket sitting underneath it.

From behind them, laughter rang out and a bright blue blur ran past them, followed closely by yellow and brown. A grin split across Mangle’s face and they laughed as the bear managed to tackle the blue rabbit, sending both Animals tumbling harmlessly across the grass. Chii danced around them, looking so carefree with her feathers wild and bouncing around as she laughed and cheered Alfred on.

“They sure are somethin’, huh?” another familiar voice asked from behind them, and Mangle turned around to face the golden rabbit. He was smiling so brightly, his green eyes lit up in a way Mangle hadn’t seen in years, and they had the urge to just throw themself at him and hug him and just _cry._

“Sure are,” the fox agreed with a laugh, looking back towards the other three. “Despite everything, I’m the luckiest fox in the world.”

“Why d’you say that?” Spring questioned, suddenly standing next to Mangle and watching the playful wrestling match in front of them.

Mangle grinned over at him and lightly nudged his arm, prompting him to look over at them. With a dramatic gesture around the empty park- empty but for their friends- the fox answered with the most sincerity they had ever expressed.

“I’m the luckiest fox because I have the _best_ family in the _entire_ universe.”

Spring just smiled... because he understood.

After all, he had the same family.

Then he nudged Mangle and said, “Race ya to the food.”

With a grin, Mangle took off, laughing at the indignant “hey!” from behind them as they sprinted up the hill. They let out a triumphant whoop as they whirled around to look over the park, over their friends, over and into forever.

A forever made of joy and _true family, true belonging, true happiness._

So caught up in the fantasy world they had created, Mangle didn’t notice their phone lighting up and vibrating where it sat on their bedside table, flashing a familiar, but unfamiliar, number.

They just smiled.

* * *

There was no voice message, so Mangle assumed that whatever it had been about wasn’t important. Maybe a wrong number. Maybe not, but the number wasn’t one they knew anyway.

They didn’t call back.

It didn’t matter, though; what mattered was the moment they were in.

Their thighs were stinging painfully as they sat next to Blu, leaning against the gymnasium and letting their gaze scan over their friends. None of them looked in very good shape, and Mangle understood without even asking just why all four of the others decided to skip gym- there hadn’t been a single discussion about it that morning.

Spring’s eyes were dull- _so different from my fantasy last night...-_ and he sat somewhat slouched, but concern was reflected there as he looked over all of _them._ Chii’s legs were tightly drawn together, Alfred was sitting very stiffly, and Blu was... well... Mangle didn’t know how to describe him in that moment; he looked ready to just collapse and he wasn’t even standing.

Closing their eyes, they leaned their head back against the gymnasium wall. They could hear the students inside filing out to go to the track, thankfully out of sight of their hideout between the gym’s back wall and the woods less than a football field away.

“What happened last night, Blu?” Spring finally dared. It was the first time any of them asked, all of them wary of the watching eyes. Mangle themself had only noticed because their friends would fall silent at the simplest hint that any of the Fazcrew was around, but they knew how serious of a problem they might have had.

“Mother barged into my room, yelled some, threw a wooden bowl at my head and then hit me,” Blu told them without hesitance, and Mangle opened their eyes to look at him. He looked utterly exhausted, and the bruise Mangle knew was out of sight only made it worse. “On the bright side, no blood last night. Just a horrible headache and I ache everywhere, but I’ll be fine when I get some sleep.”

Sitting up and ignoring the pain in their legs, Mangle asked, “When was the last time you slept?”

“Uh, yesterday at Spring’s house.” Mangle frowned and glanced at Spring, noticing his tight, worried expression.

 _That doesn’t count,_ Mangle thought to themself. “No, _real_ sleep,” they clarified. “Like... a full night’s sleep. Dreams and all.” They had a feeling they would not like the answer.

“Ah, um,” Blu started, frowning in thought. “Saturday night I think?”

_Fuck’s sake..._

“You need sleep!” Chii gasped in horror. “That’s not good for you, you could pass out!”

Mangle leaned back as Blu said, “I’ll sleep tonight, even if I have to go to the old fort.”

 _The old fort._ Mangle felt their blood run cold and they closed their eyes, remembering that old... _thing_ that Spring’s real father had built, back when they were all five or six. It had been a request made by Spring, hardly a year before his father got remarried and...

Mangle didn’t want to think about it. They shivered almost violently at the memories that always came with the old fort, remembering _that man_ whose name had been forced on Spring and Spring’s sister... that man who had somehow sired someone as adorable and sweet as Plushie...

And that wasn’t even mentioning what happened after Mangle’s father had found the fort. It was near his land, after all.

“-en there in nearly six years, Blu, it’s a death trap now...” Spring was saying as Mangle tuned back in. “Oh my god, _please_ tell me you haven’t been running off there by yourself, Blu...”

 _Please,_ Mangle silently begged as well, opening their eyes and looking towards their friend again. Blu looked guilty and Spring looked utterly horrified- and Chii and Alfred didn’t look much better.

“It’s not often!” Blu tried to excuse, but Mangle couldn’t think of any real excuse. “J-just when I can’t stand staying home and, I just- I don’t want to bother you guys all of the time...”

“Blu, you know you can always come to my house,” Spring desperately tried to explain, sounding so distraught that it broke the fox’s heart. How they longed for the carefree days again, when Spring might have laughed and hugged Blu, assuring him that it was _never_ a bother... “Anything could have happened at that old treehouse, Blu- you could have fallen through the floor and broken your neck and we wouldn’t have even _thought_ to look there for you...!”

It was true, none of them would have considered the old fort as somewhere to look. Mangle _hated_ walking along their father’s land, with the memories and _vibes_ it carried...

“Spring,” Alfred interrupted, almost startling Mangle. “He’s fine.”

Mangle wanted to protest that too, but they chose to hold their tongue and just lean back against the wall, closing their eyes again. _Why can’t things be simpler..._

“But anything could have happened,” Spring protested weakly.

“But it didn’t,” Alfred countered, his voice soft but filled with finality. Spring didn’t try to argue more. “But it would... be... best to... not go there.” He was struggling, and that broke Mangle’s heart even further.

When Alfred felt forced to talk, that meant things were bad.

“Next time please come to me instead,” Spring said tiredly. Mangle didn’t open their eyes. They didn’t want to see his expression. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t care if it’s one in the morning, just don’t go _there_ again.”

_Please..._

“How are all of you holding up?” Blu diverted, and though all of them knew he was diverting none of them called him out on it. Mangle almost wished they did.

Mangle looked away, even though their eyes were still closed, and settled their hands on their thighs. _I really don’t wanna talk about it..._

“I, uh, forgot to take my medicine this morning...” Spring answered after a few moments of silence, and immediately Mangle’s eyes snapped open and they turned to the golden-furred rabbit, shocked. Quickly, the rabbit added, “Plushie had the nightmare man dream again.”

Just the name sent an unpleasant shiver through Mangle, and they clenched their teeth as they watched Spring’s hand go to his chest. _Still affecting them even when he’s gone. Fucking bastard..._

It was Chii who broke the chilled silence. “Charlie came into my room again.” Mangle’s heart practically stopped at those words. Every time Chii had... _problems_ with her step-father, Mangle was terrified that she’d say those words- those _life-altering, life-destroying_ words... “Tried to... I... it doesn’t matter,” she finished, refusing to look at any of them, ashamed. However, Mangle felt some relief; _tried to._ _That means he didn’t succeed. Thank god..._

Mangle wished they could hug their friend and comfort them- they knew how she felt, after all. To have hands, unloving and unwelcome, on your body, ghosting across every part of you that was meant for only those you _chose..._ to be sized up and treated like someone’s _toy..._ to have all of your rights stripped from you in one single moment, to struggle to regain it- to wrestle with the feeling of _it’s my fault, they only do it because I’m me, if I was better they wouldn’t..._

They wanted so badly to reach out to her, to let her _talk_ to them about it, let her cling to them and just let it all out, find comfort in the familiarity of a friend, the understanding of a fellow victim...

But they knew it wasn’t welcome. Not yet. Not until she couldn’t feel the ghost of his hands anymore.

 _The best thing I can do is speak up now,_ Mangle thought miserably, clenching their hands into fists. “My parents got mad when I tried to... _refuse,_ ” they answered next, staring at the ground beyond their legs. “Grabbed the switch and...” _They don’t need details..._ “Well, I won’t be wearing shorts for a while,” they finished, finally looking up at their friends.

The silence that fell after their words was heavy and tense, and they hoped Alfred would find his voice soon. Partly because they were worried and partly because they felt like they were drowning in the air.

“Dad hit me with a bottle again,” Alfred started, his voice somewhat unsteady as he spoke. “In the back and shoulder.” Mangle watched, ears flat, as Alfred began rolling the left sleeve of his T-shirt up, revealing a _very_ red bandage that was in _desperate_ need of changing. Just the sight of it made Mangle sick with worry. “It... wasn’t close to empty,” Alfred finished.

Mangle cringed and bowed their head, feeling awful. _Why, why, god_ why _is it always like this?!_

“Don’t think I got all the glass out,” Alfred added softly. Mangle didn’t dare open their eyes. “Won’t stop bleeding.”

“Jesus Christ, why is it always this way...” Blu muttered. Mangle didn’t look up and they didn’t answer him because they wanted to know the same exact thing.

There was no answer, though, and that alone broke their heart.

They were all suffering and simply put... there was absolutely no reason for it. They just _were._

_Welcome to hell, starring our lives..._

* * *

Mangle concentrated on the window, pretending not to notice the red fox sitting next to them. The Fazcrew and the loud human girls were all silent, as though all of them could feel the heavy air hanging around the room.

Dr. Schmidt, however, didn’t seem to get the memo. Mangle didn’t mind, though. It was nice to see someone smiling still.

However, when he clapped his hands together _right_ after the bell rang, it was _not_ appreciated.

“Alright, class! Homework!”

Without much hesitance, Mangle turned to their bookbag and pulled their purple-and-pink binder out, pausing to glance at the printed out photograph slipped inside the plastic.

It was of them and their friends, just over a year before celebrating the fourth of July. They were in Spring’s bedroom- the painted-green walls and the four-poster bed large enough to accommodate all five of them _plus_ Plushie, if they so desired, were unmistakable, and just barely Mangle could see the blue curtain to the ever-locked balcony doors in Spring’s room.

They smiled slightly at the photo; Spring was in the middle, his back against his bed, with a lapful of laughing bunnies- one blue and one gold- while Mangle had literally _just_ jumped onto the bed behind him, their hands moments from landing on the bemused teen’s shoulders. Alfred had somehow ended up on his stomach with Chii sitting on his back, looking like the queen of England. The bear was laughing so freely that just the sight of the memory warmed Mangle’s heart.

Behind the camera, they remembered, was Spring’s sister, who had been laughing at the chaos happening in her brother’s bedroom that day.

That day, just a few months before everything started falling apart.

Their smile dropping into a frown, the fox quickly flipped the binder open and pulled the packet out. When they looked up, Chii was watching them with sad blue eyes. Wordlessly, Mangle handed the packet over to her.

Dr. Schmidt collected everything and Mangle turned back to the window, fidgeting as they stared at the sky. Raindrops hit the window, and somewhere in the distance lightning flashed.

They didn’t bother tuning in to hear what the teacher had to say. Instead, they stared out at the rain, remembering a time... not too long ago, actually, when the fox and Blu had run out into the back yard and just _danced_ in the rain, laughing so carelessly... and from the porch Spring, Alfred, and Chii had watched them and, eventually, joined them.

It had felt so normal, grabbing the blue rabbit’s hands in their own and spinning around, letting the rain soak them through. It had felt so normal, laughing and collapsing into the wet grass with their friends, just looking at the grey skies above...

“Mangle!” they could hear as the image materialized before their eyes, the classroom fading away and leaving them with nothing but the rain. Blu and Chii ran out of the rain and over to them, each grabbing one of the fox’s hands. “Come dance with us!”

With a laugh, Mangle allowed their friends to drag them along, out into the pouring rain where Spring and Alfred were waiting, already soaking wet and smiling.

“Mangle!” they greeted in unison as Blu and Chii released their hands. “Glad you could make it!” Spring added, and Alfred just nodded in agreement, as quiet as ever. His smile, however, said everything Mangle needed to hear.

Smiling widely, Mangle laughed and grabbed the nearest pair of hands- they were Chii’s, the fox dimly noted- and began spinning around, pulling the laughing chicken with them. “Dance with _me!”_ Mangle called out to their friends, and laughing, Blu and Spring joined in.

“I’ll pass,” Alfred chuckled. Mangle and Chii shared a look and then grinned. Without warning, both of them reached out and grabbed one of Alfred’s hands, pulling him closer to them.

“Dance with us!” Chii giggled, and this time Alfred didn’t say no, allowing the two to drag him along into the friendly dance, laughing. Nearby, they could hear Spring and Blu laughing as they danced, too, letting the cold, soothing water soak through their fur- and, in Chii’s case, her feathers. It was nice, it was fun, it was-

“Yes, Mr. Salvage?”

Gone _._

Blinking, Mangle turned away from the window to look at the instructor, and then towards Spring, furrowing their brow. Spring’s hand was up in the air.

“May I step out for a moment?” the golden rabbit requested, his voice soft and shaky. It lacked the confidence that the Spring Mangle knew and loved had.

He was nervous, he was afraid, he was _hurting._

“Of course,” Dr. Schmidt allowed, and Mangle watched as Spring leapt out of his seat and to the door, his phone up to his ear before he was even in the hallway.

 _Plushie..._ Frowning, they looked at Chii to find her turning around to face them. Golden eyes met blue, and they just watched one another.

Mangle understood. _This is bad._

_Yeah, no kidding- Spring doesn’t need this right now._

“Mr. Rodriguez, face the front please,” the instructor called, and Chii turned around as if the command had been meant for her instead. Mangle let their gaze fall to their desk, scowling.

 _This isn’t fair,_ they thought, desperately wishing they could draw their fantasy back forth. _Why..._

They felt powerless. Completely unable to do anything. Anxiously, they shifted in their seat and drew their left leg up, slipping it under them- usually a very comfortable position for them, but the switch marks had _completely_ slipped their mind. As the extra pressure was applied, pain shot through their leg and they quickly dropped their leg again. _Sorry, Mangle ol’ pal, can’t get comfortable today..._

It wasn’t fair.

They continued staring at their desk, not really hearing their instructor speaking. At that point, the only sound they were seeking was the sound of the door opening.

And open it did.

The fox’s gaze snapped up to the golden rabbit entering, but... he wasn’t heading to his desk. He was heading towards the teacher, and when he spoke Mangle couldn’t hear. He was speaking quietly- whispering. Whatever it was, it clearly wasn’t good.

 _Plushie._ Humming softly, Mangle fidgeted. _Plushie needs to leave school. Damn..._

That meant Spring wouldn’t be there for the rest of the day. Suddenly, skipping the rest of the day and just heading over to Spring’s house, waiting for him to come home with his brother, sounded like a _grand_ idea.

They knew they couldn’t, however, as they watched Spring pack up and head out. The moment the door clicked shut, Mangle closed their eyes and turned back to the window.

 _Sometimes,_ they thought, _sometimes I wish I was someone else... but then who would have taken my place? Would I have ever met them? My friends... my_ family... _if I was anyone else, I wouldn’t have them._ The very thought made their heart clench and their breath threatened to hitch with a sudden, unexpected stinging behind their eyes. _I couldn’t live with that._

Their fingers inched towards their left arm, remembering the feeling of a blade sliding along it. It had given them peace, something to concentrate on, when their parents were too much to deal with... they could remember that feeling. It had been nice to feel in control of _something,_ even if that something was their own pain.

Quickly they shoved the thought from their mind- they had _promised_ their friends more than a year ago. _If I could survive without it through November then I can survive without it now,_ the fox firmly told themself. _Stop thinking about it._

With a quiet breath, Mangle opened their eyes, staring out the window again. _Now where was I... Oh, right..._

It was nice, feeling the rain soaking through their fur and hearing the laughter of their friends. It was a familiar sound, but never had it sounded so carefree...

* * *

The storm was in full rage again, outside the safe four... or five, six, seven, eight, _whatever_ walls surrounding them. It was dark in Spring’s house that night, most of the lights turned out. Their homework, already long completed, laid on the coffee table in the downstairs living room, and their bags were left carelessly by the wall, leaving the floor by the couches clear in case either sleeping rabbit were to wake up.

The fox sat in the bay window off of Spring’s dining room, the cushion beneath them soft, and they just stared at the rain pounding against the glass above and around them. From the kitchen they could hear a shifting of pots and pans as Chii and Spring cooked. Light barely filtered through the cracks in the door, but it wasn’t enough to disturb Mangle’s view of the darkened world beyond.

“You shouldn’t have silenced your phone.”

Alfred’s voice was sudden, and in any other moment Mangle would have felt shocked. However, they just didn’t have the energy to. “My parents are calling,” they stated simply. “I don’t want to hear what they have to say.”

“You’ll be in more trouble tomorrow.”

“Hello pot, I’m kettle.”

The bear snorted softly, prompting Mangle to turn around and look at him. He was wearing a different shirt- this one was a grey tank-top, Mangle dimly noted in the dark room- and what looked like blue pajama pants, which was funny to the fox because they knew for a fact that Alfred did _not_ wear pajamas.

“What?” Mangle asked, raising a brow at their friend. A flash of lightning lit the room, briefly revealing Alfred’s soft, tired smile. Despite the bandage that Mangle could see tightly, clinically wrapped around his shoulder, he seemed more relaxed than he had all day.

“Technically my phone isn’t silenced,” Alfred explained, his voice beginning to fade. “I forgot it.”

Mangle frowned and glanced outside again. “So it’s on your bedside table?”

“Desk.”

“Ah...” Not that that was any better, of course. “But you’ll be in just as much trouble as me, y’know.”

“No,” Alfred countered, walking over to stand near the fox. Mangle could hear him approach, his feet padding softly on the gold and white tiles beneath. “My folks don’t care. Yours...”

“Don’t care in a different way,” Mangle finished with a sigh, leaning their forehead against the glass. “I don’t want to go back... but if I don’t they’ll call the cops and they’ll just drag me back anyway...”

Alfred didn’t answer this time. Mangle knew he didn’t know _how_ to answer. Where the bear had to worry about beer bottles, drugs, and simple making ends meet to keep his money-wasting, pain-inducing, _hateful_ parents off of the streets, Mangle had to worry about... about being their parents’ source of income in a much different way.

After all, Alfred earned money by producing a product. Mangle _was_ their parents’ product... and sell it they did.

Their arms tightened around their knees, and desperately they shoved the thought aside. “Shall we check on the others?” Mangle suggested, glancing back at Alfred.

“Sure,” the bear agreed, his voice soft but unstrained. “Maybe they would like help,” he added, and Mangle almost smiled.

When Alfred was comfortable... when he felt safe... with the people who mattered most to him... it was so much easier for him to talk. Mangle loved how smooth and soothing his voice was, even just speaking. When he sang, though... well, Alfred had a gift with music, on par with his talent for writing.

Paired together, Alfred’s poetry- so easily converted into song- and his voice was _amazing._ It used to feel like a privilege to even so much as hear him _speak,_ even moreso when he sang. After thirteen or so years of friendship, though, Mangle had heard his voice enough times to grow used to it.

Of course, puberty and maturity had done wonders for the lanky teen who _really_ looked like he could use a burger or two.

It was then that Mangle realized that none of them had eaten lunch that day- and, if they knew their friends well enough, that meant they hadn’t eaten _anything._

“Yeah, maybe,” they agreed, slipping out of the window seat and stretching, ignoring the sting in their legs. Mangle didn’t really feel hungry- they felt too heartsick, honestly- but they knew that it wouldn’t be good for any of them to go without food.

It was already bad enough that Blu was fast asleep, undoubtedly not having eaten _anything_ since dinner the day before...

Alfred simply nodded and turned, heading towards the kitchen to join Spring and Chii. Mangle followed, pausing to cast one more glance outside into the pitch blackness.

A flash of lightning lit the room, followed closely by rumbling thunder.

The fox frowned, but they turned and walked towards the kitchen where Alfred was watching, waiting, outside the door.

Maybe they were being melodramatic, but in that moment, that lightning felt like an omen.

_I wonder what tomorrow holds for us..._


	8. Brilliant Start and that was Sarcasm, Foxy

“So when exactly _are_ we doing this?”

Foxy glanced towards Goldie, frowning. The hallway around them was crowded and they were somewhat struggling to get to their math class. Normally they would have waited for it to clear up somewhat, but they wanted to beat Salvage and his friends there.

“Not at lunch,” Bonnie immediately told them. “Putting them on the spot in front of half the student body would not be a good idea.”

“Yeah, it’d probably send Salvage into a panic attack,” Goldie sighed in agreement. “Which would instantly earn the others’ hatred forever, I’m sure.”

“Probably, yeah,” Freddy agreed. “But we can’t try in math class, either, since Jeggs, Creol, and Walker are in there, too.”

“We could just wait until tomorrow,” Foxy pointed out, pushing someone out of his way. “Y’know, when we have to talk to ‘em one-on-one anyway.”

“Or if ya want we could just wait until Monday,” Chica added, and Foxy struggled to determine if she was joking or actually serious. Sometimes it was hard to tell. “You guys could try in gym.”

Foxy resisted the urge to snort at his friend’s suggestion, knowing just how well _that_ would fly with the others. Surprisingly enough, though, it appeared that Goldie was actually considering the option.

“I don’t think approachin’ ‘em as a group- our group or their group or both- is a good idea, actually,” Goldie sighed, glancing at the ceiling. Foxy frowned.

“Why not?”

“Well,” Goldie started, looking at the amber-eyed fox, “they would probably react to us as a collective but we want ‘em to react as individuals, like they did in Dr. Schmidt’s class that very first day, right?”

“Right...” Foxy agreed hesitantly. He could see where Goldie was going; don’t approach them when they’re all together or else they’ll react according to how their friends react.

_That’s a big factor for Freddy,_ he realized suddenly, glancing towards the brown bear. _Fischbach acts neutral when he’s separate from his friends, but the moment ya put ‘em all together Fischbach’s as suspicious of us as the rest are... if the others react negatively to us, so will Fischbach._

He understood.

“So basically,” Chica started, sounding almost uneasy. “we approach them one-on-one, not as groups.”

“Right,” Goldie confirmed needlessly.

“Seems a little... predatorial, doesn’t it? I mean, separate them from the pack...”

Foxy couldn’t help but agree, but he knew there wasn’t much of any other choice. It sounded wrong, very wrong, the way Chica put it, but it was an apt description.

Disheartening though it was.

“It’s either that or let them influence each others’ reactions,” Freddy told her with a small frown, glancing into the classroom. The others paused, waiting for his verdict. “They’re already suspicious of us, they’ll be on alert even alone- if we approach them as a group or all at the same time it might be seen as some kind of attack and put them on even higher alert.”

“I feel like we’re making war plans,” Chica sighed, shaking her head. She was clearly unhappy with this plan. Foxy didn’t blame her one bit. “This is ridiculous, they’re classmates the same age as us, we should be able to just approach them.”

They slipped into the classroom. It was empty but for Mr. Fueller, who was sitting behind his desk assumedly grading papers. Foxy sorely hoped there was no pop quiz; he had barely gotten his homework done the night before and had mostly relied on Bonnie’s help.

_I hate math,_ he thought miserably, heading towards his seat three rows back and two rows over. Notably, none of them responded to Chica’s statement as they all sat down around his desk; only Goldie and Freddy sat in their assigned seats; Goldie in front of him and Freddy diagonally-right, with Chica sitting to Foxy’s left and Bonnie sitting diagonally-left from him.

They all leaned in, dropping into whispers; now they no longer had the protection of the hallway noise around them, they had to take precaution.

“So not here and not lunch, but you’re determined to try _today?”_ Foxy questioned quietly, ears barely twitching as the warning bell rang. “With the way they were actin’ yesterday they might not even come today.”

“They’re here,” Freddy assured him. “I saw them this morning in the hall. They seem much more, ah... alive today.”

“We could try in art,” Chica suggested. “There’s not that many people in there.”

“Ashley Creol is,” Goldie dismissed immediately. “We approach them within her sight and the rumour mill will go wild. Plus, they stick together in that corner- and we _definitely_ don’t want to approach them when they have their backs to a corner.”

Bonnie snorted and Foxy rolled his eyes; it wasn’t really funny. At all. In fact it was kind of sad.

“Yeah, we don’t want that,” he agreed, just imagining how it would feel to be literally and metaphorically backed into a corner. “Really, I think we should wait for Monday, there’re less conflictin’ factors-”

“Excuse me."

Blinking, they all turned to look towards the voice- and who should be standing there but Salvage and his friends? They had all stopped, just watching them with furrowed brows. “Huh?” Foxy asked stupidly, worried that they were standing there long enough to hear the entire conversation. That would not be good; they were definitely close enough that whispering would not have prevented them from hearing.

Fischbach cleared his throat, his gaze landing on Bonnie. “You’re in my seat.”

It took a few moments for the rabbit to register the words. “Oh- right.” Quickly he slipped out of the desk, giving Foxy and the others a look. _Conversation; delayed._ “Sorry,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Chica stood up without a word, knowing very well she was in Kain’s seat. Bonnie went to his seat, which was just one over anyway, as Chica went to her seat two desks back from Bonnie’s.

The group of “odd” students gave them all wary looks as they slowly split up to go to their own seats; Blanc sat in their seat in front of Goldie, Fischbach and Kain slipped into their own seats, and Rodriguez and Salvage went to their assigned spots in the second-to-last row- Rodriguez right behind Foxy and Salvage on Rodriguez’s left.

_Weird that they stayed together until all of their seats were vacated._

Pushing the strange thought aside, Foxy watched lazily as people filed into class. He watched Marion Marshal walk by, silent as ever and eyes straight ahead, followed shortly by... he forgot their names- the three human girls who also happened to be in their science class. Then the loud, popular students filed in, laughing and talking about whatever it was that had their interest that day.

When the bell rang, Mr. Fueller stood up from his desk, removed his glasses, and looked around at them all with a small grin. “Good morning, everyone!” he greeted cheerily, walking to the center of the front of the room. “How’s everyone today?”

There was a general muttering of “fine” among the students, none of which actually _wanted_ to answer.

“Good, good,” Mr. Fueller chuckled. “Well then, it’s time to take up homework, now isn’t it? Take it out and pass it to the front.”

Obediently, the students reached into their bags and pulled out the desired packet, and Foxy mindlessly took the two offered packets from Rodriguez (looking at the page on top showed that it was someone named Tom Walker’s, a name Foxy was, unfortunately, very familiar and unfriendly with). Foxy barely glanced at the equations that still made no damn sense to him- _really, who assigns this much homework after the_ first _class? At least Dr. Schmidt’s homework was review!-_ as he handed it forwards to Goldie, who in turned passed it up to Blanc.

Fueller moved to take the packets from the students sitting in the front row, and as he did a burst of shrill laughter sounded to Foxy’s left- beyond Bonnie and Chica. Wincing, Foxy glared in the direction of the blonde cheerleader- _Ashley goddamned Creol, shuddup please-_ who was laughing at something one of the soccer stars said.

“Ms. Creol, would you like to share with the class what is so funny?” Mr. Fueller asked, raising a brow at the girl.

“No, Mr. Fueller,” she immediately responded, giving him a wide, angelic smile. At least, Foxy assumed it was angelic; he couldn’t see her face, as she was in the front row.

“Then keep your laughter to yourself, please.”

Foxy smirked slightly as the girl nodded and the teacher continued picking the homework up. He dropped the stack of packets on his desk and turned back around, surveying the class.

“Alright then, let’s get started! We’ll start with the easy stuff but I assure you, you will hate this class by the third week.”

_I already do, Mr. Fueller. I already do._

* * *

The bell ringing was like a blessing to the poor suffering math students (okay, suffering as far as Foxy was concerned), and almost everyone sprang out of their seats and raced for the door.

Foxy wished he was among them right up until the inevitable collision between a soccer and football player, and the ensuing fight afterwards. Mr. Fueller raced out into the hallway to deal with it, leaving the remaining students to creep out of the room undetected by the jeering crowd.

“First week of school and there’s already a fight,” Foxy caught a mutter behind him, and he barely glanced over his shoulder as he approached the door. Blanc was leaning on Fischbach’s desk as their other friends joined them. “It’s like this place is full of brutes.”

“Give them a break, Mangle, they’re just letting off steam,” Salvage excused before Foxy proceeded to run into the doorframe nose-first.

“Ow!” he hissed, stumbling backwards and reaching up to cover his nose. Promptly, Bonnie began laughing, and next to the fox Goldie just grinned. He glared towards the rabbit. “Stop laughin’!”

“Never!” Yeah, Bonnie didn’t stop laughing- not until he stumbled over the leg of a desk and fell down, flailing to try and catch himself and thus dislodging one of the desks when his arm slammed onto it. Foxy _almost_ felt bad for him. “Ow...”

“Karma,” Goldie hummed, grinning at their downed friend. Freddy, the more mature of them all, approached the rabbit with his brow furrowed in concern.

“Oh yeah, like you weren’t laughing too,” Bonnie accused, glaring towards Goldie and accepting Freddy’s offered hand of help back up. When he was standing again, he used his foot to slide the desk back into its proper place and huffed, heading towards the door again.

“How the hell did you hit the doorframe, Foxy?” Chica asked, raising a brow at him as they walked out of the door.

“I was distracted,” Foxy huffed, gingerly poking his nose. He turned to Freddy, pouting mockingly in his best imitation of a pitiful child. “Is it broken?”

“Ya didn’t hit the wall _that_ hard,” Freddy chuckled, setting his hand on Foxy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, your nose is still on straight.”

“And I thought you were on my side,” Foxy mock-whined to Freddy, pouting even more. “Oh how you wound me!”

“You deserved it,” Bonnie dismissed with a smirk, absently rubbing his right arm. Foxy raised a brow but chose not to ask.

“Oh please,” he scoffed instead, looking ahead in time to dodge around a stationary student. “I deserve to go home.”

“Nah,” his friends all immediately dismissed in unison.

“You don’t get out of your embarrassment that easily,” Chica added with a snort, glancing towards the fox.

“On the bright side, only Salvage and his friends saw you stupidly walk into a wall,” Goldie added much too chipperly, grinning as Foxy’s glare fell on him. “So it’s not like it’ll get all around school.”

They stepped into the English classroom and immediately claimed the seats near the door, not for the first time glad that they didn’t have arranged seats. “Who all’s in this class?” Freddy wondered aloud, glancing around at the twenty or so desks. “I didn’t really pay much attention Tuesday.”

“All I know is Rodriguez and the rest of them are in here,” Bonnie told them with a shrug, and Foxy simply shrugged as well, indicating that he had no idea. He hadn’t been paying attention at all. “They came in late, remember?”

“Yeah, we knew _they_ were in here,” Chica snorted, nudging the rabbit. “Even if we hadn’t been watching them we would have.”

Students began filing in and Foxy glanced towards them, _Marion Marshal again- every class we have with Blanc we have with him. And there are those girls again... geez, it’s like someone set the fourteen of us up or something._ More people trailed in- _no Ashley Creol, that’s good-_ before Salvage and his friends arrived. Blanc’s eyes were oddly enough towards the ceiling and Fischbach had a loose grip on their arm, leading them towards the back of the room to the only remaining empty seats.

Foxy shared a look with Freddy and shrugged; he had _no_ idea why _that_ was. However, he chose not to question it- really, it was none of his business.

_Yet, anyway._

There was no way they could _possibly_ talk to their classmates, not like this.

Sighing, Foxy leaned on his hand and stared at the front of the room, not bothering to tune in to his friends’ conversation. _This isn’t gonna work. Really, we can’t talk to ‘em like this, we’re gonna need to wait until tomorrow, and that’s at the earliest._

One minute passed. Two. The warning bell rang and a few more students wandered in. Bonnie walked out- _wait, what?_

Sitting up, Foxy turned around to find Bonnie’s desk empty. His belongings were still sitting beside it but-

“He went to the nurse,” Freddy informed Foxy almost boredly, and Foxy glanced over towards the bear. “If you had been paying attention to us you’d know that.”

“Why?” he asked dumbly, glancing around at his friends. “What’d I miss?”

“Turns out when he hit the desk earlier he got cut by some metal,” Chica answered him with a shrug. “Didn’t notice.”

Foxy remembered when Bonnie rubbed his arm and frowned. “He should’a noticed,” he muttered, turning back around and leaning on his hand. _He must’ve been really distracted._

“Sometimes things just escape our notice,” Goldie stated, and Foxy had a feeling that was referencing more than their lack of noticing Bonnie’s injury. “It’s natural.”

Frowning, Foxy watched as their English teacher stood up from her desk and approached the front of the room. _Yeah, but shouldn’t we notice these things about our own best friends?_

* * *

Foxy had never been the most artistic person in the world, but he honestly didn’t think the still-life sitting in the middle of the room would be _too_ hard. So, with that in mind, he went over to the supply closet off the side of the studio and picked out a few pencils, then he grabbed a plastic cup and poured the required ink in.

_I’ll come back for the paintbrush,_ he decided, picking his cup of ink and his pencils up. Then he was heading back to his easel to begin sketching out the scene.

However, as he passed Chica, he discovered that he was walking much closer to the easels than he had expected to; his foot caught on the heavy wood, jerking the easel around as he stumbled and fell (he _totally_ didn’t yelp in surprise, no way), and he felt himself hit the ground, knocking the wind out of him. All he could do was watch, a moment before Chica’s backerboard landed on his back (and he _so_ did not yelp then, either), as the pencils scattered on the floor and the plastic cup full of ink literally _shattered,_ sending its contents flying up and over.

His eyes landed on Salvage across the room, whose startled eyes fell on the ink flying towards him and his friends, and Foxy felt like his stomach just _fell._ Quick as a flash, however, Rodriguez and Blanc both darted out of the line of fire and Kain dove behind Salvage, who seemed to be frozen in place.

The ink, so slow yet so quick in the fox’s horror, splattered right across Salvage and Fischbach’s clothes and even their faces. Salvage was surprised, it seemed, while Fischbach instantly went to wipe the ink off of his arm in a futile effort to avoid staining his fur.

_Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit..._

_So much for trying to befriend them,_ he thought, ears flicking at the shrill laughter of Ashley Creol. _Fuck._

Freddy grabbed Foxy’s hand and started pulling him to his feet, and Foxy couldn’t help but let out an, “Oh shit.” He would be in so much trouble.

“Hey, Al,” Foxy heard, and he just watched as Salvage grinned over at the bear, “you got a little somethin’ on your shirt.” The bear simply responded by tapping his own cheek, a smirk forming, and Foxy realized with a start that they were _amused._

_Wait. What? Why are they amused? Shouldn’t they be pissed?_

Foxy felt himself relax as Salvage and Fischbach’s other friends began grinning as well, and he glanced around as well to see Mr. Smith slipping out of the room for one reason or another. Around him, he could practically feel the relief settling over his friends; their chances were’s completely destroyed.

“Well, _Springtrap,”_ a voice suddenly cut through, and Foxy’s gaze snapped over to the cheerleader leaning against her easel. She was smirking, her eyes on the golden rabbit. “Now you’ve got something to match that ugly scar, huh?”

Glancing over towards Salvage, Foxy noted the rabbit frown and glance around at his friends as they all rejoined him. Each of his friends were now scowling, their amusement having flown out the window.

Foxy couldn’t blame them.

_There’s nothing wrong with scars,_ he thought while mindlessly rubbing at his right wrist, feeling the fastener and the scars riddling his skin there just under the fur. Sure, Foxy knew, his own scars were much less noticeable- being on his chest, stomach, and his legs- than Salvage’s scars- the ones that riddled his arms, the one that crossed over his eye, the one that spidered down his ear from where it had been cut off... but they were there, anyway.

“Yeah,” Rodriguez started, sneering over towards Creol, “but it would match _so_ much better with your dead black heart.”

_Holy. Shit. They’re responding._

Creol’s smirk slipped off of her face as Blanc added, “If she even has one.”

“True,” Rodriguez snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. Somehow Foxy thought he looked simultaneously sassy and _pissed._ “Someone like her is nothing but an empty husk, anyway, feeding off of everyone else’s misery.”

“Damn,” Foxy heard Bonnie mutter, but he wasn’t sure how to react himself. “He’s never said anything like that about us.”

_Should I be mad that she just did what we’ve been_ tryin’ _to do for years, or should I just enjoy watchin’ Ms. Queen Bee get torn down by a rabbit barely tall enough to ride a roller coaster? Should I be worried? They are_ mad...

“What did you just say you Mexican fuck?!”

Foxy’s eyes widened and his gaze snapped straight to Creol. She was snarling, glaring towards Rodriguez who looked relatively unfazed.

_Did she just-?!_

“For the record,” Rodriguez started flatly, “I’m _Spanish,_ not Mexican! Learn geography!”

Despite the fact that she had used the wrong ethnicity or whatever, Foxy noticed, Rodriguez and all of his friends looked offended and angry anyway. _Maybe it’s on principle. She was tryin’ to use his race against him._

“Whatever,” Creol scoffed carelessly, lifting her head into the air and glancing at her nails as if bored. Foxy couldn’t help but scowl. “You still speak a stupid language anyway.”

Without much warning, Rodriguez snarled and started forwards threateningly, but then Salvage caught his shoulder to stop him. Unable to get closer to the bigot, the rabbit instead chose to say, “Oh please, at least Spanish makes _sense,_ English is so weird- it’s an amalgamation of different languages.” Without missing a beat, Rodriguez gasped and lifted a hand to his lips, looking _so_ apologetically at Creol. “Oops, sorry,” he started, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “I forgot- bimbos don’t know big words like amalgamation!”

It wasn’t really the best comeback in Foxy’s mind, but it was much better than anything Creol had thrown at him. _Personally I’d’ve used the word bitch._

Creol straightened up, an angry flush on her cheeks. “I will-” she started, but the sudden arrival of Mr. Smith, whose face was red with ill-concealed rage, cut her off.

“That’s enough, you two!” the teacher barked, and Foxy flinched, _so_ not wanting the blame for all of what just happened to be put on him. “Act your age, all of you!”

_Who?_

“Sorry, Mr. Smith,” Salvage immediately apologized, pulling Rodriguez back into the group. “Won’t happen again.” Rodriguez muttered something but Foxy couldn’t catch it. Mr. Smith didn’t respond to him, however, so Foxy figured it must not have been important.

“Get back to work, all of you,” Mr. Smith commanded, looking around at all of them. “Mr. Salvage, Mr. Fischbach, if you need to go home and change clothes, you’re excused.” Notably, neither student made to move. Then Mr. Smith’s gaze fell on Foxy and the fox winced. “No more accidents, Mr. Jones.”

“R-right, got it,” he stuttered, instinctively rubbing at his neck. _Does he think I did it on purpose or something?_

“Ms. Sanchez, secure your backerboard properly, and Ms. Creol, _easels are not for leaning!_ You break it, you pay the damages fee, got it? Mr. Fazbear, get that smirk off your face, and Ms. Sanchez, whatever you’re about to say; _don’t.”_

Foxy glanced over at his friends just as Freddy’s smirk- _why were ya smirkin’, mate?-_ fell, and Chica’s beak snapped shut. The chicken looked irritated, to put it lightly.

Without another word, Mr Smith swept back across the room to the front. Slowly, everyone returned to their easels, but Foxy, noting the mess on the floor, scurried back to the supply closet to grab paper towels. He headed back out and dropped down to begin wiping up the ink, making a face as the fingertips of his prosthetic _touched_ it.

_I hope this comes out of faux fur,_ he thought, displeased as he glanced at the hand. Deciding that there was nothing he could do about it right then, he continued mopping the ink up.

_“For the record, Creol, Spanish is my first language. And I was_ born _in Mexico.”_

Oh boy did Chica sound mad. Livid, even. Foxy couldn’t really blame her; even he felt a twisting tendril of anger over everything she’d said.

Not just her racist comment, either.

The ink left dark splotches on the tile that Foxy knew would have to be “properly” cleaned, but once all of the liquid was up- thankfully Salvage and Fischbach had moved back so he wasn’t having to practically touch their shoes to get every last drop of ink- he stood up to his feet.

After a split second, he said, “Sorry,” quietly to the group before hurrying back to his dropped supplies, dropping the ink-stained paper towels into the trashcan on his way. He wasn’t sure if Salvage or Blanc or any of them heard or believed him.

He glared towards Creol, who he decided was to blame for the entire fiasco.

_Hopefully they won’t completely reject our attempts at friendship,_ he thought bitterly as he picked his supplies up. Admittedly he was still unsure about their plan- but the Fazcrew were a group undivided. If his friends wanted to befriend Blanc and Blanc’s friends, then Foxy would too.

He just couldn’t help but wonder if he had destroyed their chances.

* * *

Getting to Freddy and Goldie’s house was like a godsend, and Foxy popped the prosthetic off of his wrist almost as soon as they reached the twins’ bedroom. He sighed and set it on the desk, dropping down into Goldie’s chair. He didn’t bother glancing at the yearbooks sitting on his desk.

Goldie just dropped down on his bed. “Today was exhausting,” the golden bear complained as Bonnie sat down next to him. “I almost dread tomorrow.”

“I _do_ dread tomorrow,” Bonnie sighed, leaning back. Foxy glanced down at his arm which had been bandaged by the nurse and frowned. “I think during science is really the only chance we’ll have to talk to them one-on-one. And,” the rabbit added, glancing around at all of them, “might be the only chance we’ll have to, uh... make an opening.”

“What do ya mean by that?” Chica asked, settling down in Freddy’s desk chair next to Foxy. “I mean, we have all year, don’t we?”

“At some point they’re bound to close themselves off further,” Freddy sighed, settling down on his bed. “There’ll come a point where it’s simply “too late,” if we haven’t long since passed that.”

_We probably have, it's been, what, twelve years?_

“We haven’t been sayin’ anything about ‘em this year,” Goldie started, shrugging. “And they seem to respond to that by not sayin’ anything about us. Maybe that’ll help in our favour.”

“Yeah, but “this year” hasn’t even been a full week,” Foxy pointed out, frowning. “Though yeah, it _does_ seem like they more reciprocate rather than respond...”

“Reciprocate?” Goldie repeated, raising a brow. “I didn’t know you knew such a big word.” Foxy rolled his eyes.

“They respond equally to what they’re given,” Freddy mused aloud, pulling a notebook out of his bookbag. “You gave them passing comments that were never said _to_ them, they gave you passing comments that were never said _to_ you. Creol directly confronts Salvage, and they directly responded back, bark to bite.”

“And revealed that Ashley Creol’s just a racist little bitch,” Chica bit out, her eyes narrowing. “I am _so_ done with that stereotypical barbiedoll.”

“We cut Creol out and it gives us more credibility with Salvage and them, too,” Goldie put in, frowning. “‘Cause frankly, I want nothin’ to do with her at this point.”

“But causes questions with the rest of school,” Freddy countered, shaking his head. “It would seem strange and suspicious if we just suddenly dumped Creol off for no “real” reason- offhand comments like that...”

“Everyone knows Creol is a tattle,” Foxy snorted, leaning back and picking up one of the yearbooks in his left hand. He laid it down on his lap and flipped it open, quickly locating their fifth grade class. “Amanda Benson, fifth grade- she was Creol’s best friend back then.” Foxy didn’t like thinking about Benson; she had been so sweet and considerate, one of the few popular people who didn’t follow the “talk about the weird kids” trend. _What happened just ain’t fair._ “Last I heard of her, Benson dropped outt’a school after Creol went ‘round tellin’ everyone that she got herself pregnant and didn’t know who the father was.”

He glanced up and noticed Goldie watching him, a strange look in his eyes, but whatever the bear was thinking he didn’t voice it. Oddly enough, though, Goldie didn’t look away.

“Basically,” Chica continued Foxy’s thought, “her words earlier today paired with her actions over the last few years are reason enough to cut ties between us and her, and have a valid reason when people ask.”

“Exactly,” Foxy agreed, nodding and looking back down at the page. “If anyone asks, just say she revealed herself to be a racist, and remind ‘em about Benson.”

“And Matthew Smith,” Bonnie added.

“Alyssa Cinch,” Freddy supplied.

“Anita Jackson.”

“Thomas Andrews.”

Foxy boredly observed the page as his friends just continued listing off names. Something wasn’t quite right about the page he was on, he realized. He scanned over the pictures, frowning. _There’s Blanc, lookin’ dazed as usual... and there’s Fischbach- smiling, but somehow remainin’ neutral. Leave it to that bear to find a way to make a smile neutral._ Something about the way they were looking out bothered Foxy.

“Deana Greene.”

“Marcus Browne.”

_There’s Salvage, actually... up... Why is Salvage up there?_ He glanced down at Salvage’s name.

_Spring Evans._

He just _stared_ at that name for several seconds, just trying to figure out what he was seeing. When he looked up again, Goldie was staring straight at him, watching him expectantly.

_The yearbooks are on his desk instead of the shelf,_ Foxy suddenly realized, glancing back down at the pictures on the page. _He’s... seen this already._

_“Some things just escape our notice.”_

“Darrius Mark.”

“I think that’s all of them?”

“No, there’s also Abriana Shay and Tatiana Freefield.”

The smiles were flat, he noticed, the eyes dazed- on all of them, not just Blanc. _That’s what looks so wrong. It’s so... hidden but so_ obvious, _how did we miss that?_

_Vivien Blanc,_ the name read just as he had expected to see. _Vivien Blanc._ Really looking at the picture, however, he noticed something... different. In the picture, though Blanc’s distant smile and dazed eyes were so... well... _Blanc,_ the fox was wearing a dark blue hoodie.

Blanc didn’t wear hoodies. Ever.

_It’s been nearly seven years since this picture was taken,_ Foxy reasoned, slowly closing the yearbook and looking back towards Goldie. The bear had by then turned his attention to their other friends.

Foxy set the yearbook down on Goldie’s desk and put his right hand back on, frowning slightly to himself as he flexed the fingers. It was so obvious, now.

_No, it was obvious all along. Ya just didn’t really look until now._

He hated the feeling of guilt coiling in his stomach. He hated that little whisper in his mind, telling him how _obvious_ it was, how he should have noticed _years_ ago. Should have noticed everything.

_How could we’ve been so blind?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes.
> 
> Yes, that hoodie has some meaning.
> 
> Yes, you are sniffing this correctly. Take a big whiff of it, maybe you'll catch a glimpse of what's to come.


	9. A Fine Day Goes Bad, Mangle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Abuse scene at the end!

“Blu, you’re out of tune.”

“No I’m not, Spring is.”

“Blu, you are _very obviously_ out of tune,” Chii chastised, crossing her arms. “You literally _just_ turned the tuning knob!”

Mangle snickered as Blu, very purposefully, twisted the tuning knob on his guitar again. “I’m not out of tune,” he claimed innocently.

“Blu, put your guitar back in tune,” Chii commanded, staring their friend down. “Before I do it myself.”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Spring laughed, glancing towards the clock. “It’s 7:15, the buses are about to start coming in.”

“Which means practice is over,” Mangle sighed melodramatically, setting their drumsticks down. Blu made a face but lifted his guitar up over his head, making his way over to the case sitting on the shelf. “I wonder what will happen today?” the fox mused aloud, sliding their drumsticks back into their bag while Chii moved her keyboard into the back room.

“Knowing our luck?” Spring snorted, zipping his case up. “Probably get into an argument with a teacher. Again.”

“Hey,” Mangle started, pointing at Spring, “that wasn’t even our fault, the teacher was wrong.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to declare it _very loudly_ in the middle of class,” Blu pointed out, ear flicking as he looked over at Mangle. “Seriously, that was kinda dumb.”

“I was distracted,” Mangle huffed, pulling their bag up onto their shoulder. “And it just suddenly occurred to me. You know how I get when I’m dreamin’.”

“Yeah, we do,” Chii giggled, bounding over to Mangle to pick her own bags up from where they laid by the drumset. “I thought it was kinda funny how her face went all purple.”

“I thought she was about to have a heart attack,” Blu countered, shaking his head. “I was tryin’ to figure out how to explain _that_ one to the authorities! “Yeah, my friend corrected Mrs. Mittel and she just died!” How ridiculous and suspicious would _that_ sound?”

“People don’t die for being corrected,” Alfred informed the rabbit, clearly amused. “Then again...”

“Alfred, don’t encourage him,” Mangle jokingly scolded the bear as they headed out the door. They had a free period right then- how Spring managed to get them a first-thing-morning free period, Mangle had no idea, but they didn’t mind at all- so they had nowhere to actually _go,_ but it was school policy that any student with a free period must either be off campus, in the courtyard, making up missed work for a teacher, or in one of the designated rooms; the study or library. No loitering in halls, no hanging around the cafeteria, no going to the gymnasium or outdoor track without a prior arrangement, nothing.

“I don’t need encouragement,” Blu cackled as they headed for the courtyard, which _always_ had a teacher or two watching it. “I’m perfectly capable of misbehaving without any assistance.”

They all laughed at that, shaking their heads and steadfastly ignoring the students milling about them. “I’m sure,” Spring chuckled, reaching over and jokingly patting the rabbit’s head. “Little innocent bunny, hide those horns.”

_At least he didn’t say-_

“Bunny-bab,” Chii coughed, and immediately Blu and Spring burst into laughter and Alfred just chuckled.

“Nooo!” Mangle groaned, though they couldn’t resist a small laugh of their own as they leaned against Spring’s arm. “Spring, are the cakes worth it?!”

“Of course!” Spring responded, laughing as he gently pushed Mangle off of him. Then he opened the door to the courtyard and held it open for them, gesturing them out with a fanciful flourish. “Ladies first,” he added teasingly to them all.

Mangle tilted their head innocently at their friend, folding their hands in front of them. “Then shouldn’t you go on through? Don’t leave the gentlemen waiting,” they joked, and Spring stuck his tongue out at them.

“Well, I _am_ a lady,” Chii mock-sniffed as she headed through the door, “so thanks!” Mangle snorted as Chii sent them a grin from outside in the courtyard. If they got any strange looks from their classmates, Mangle neither noticed nor cared as they watched Blu flounce on through the door, lightly shoving Chii- just on her arm, Mangle noted dutifully.

Mangle followed their friends through and Alfred and Spring both followed suit, heading towards one of the round tables sitting in the sunshine. It was warm and so nice on their fur, so Mangle dropped down in a seat and stretched their arms out, laying their head on the table.

“Nnng, the sun feels so nice,” they sighed, listening as Alfred pulled a fifth chair up between themself and Spring. “We should eat lunch out here today.”

“Agreed,” Alfred chuckled, settling down.

“Should we double-check our math homework?” Spring asked once they were all seated. “That way the teacher over there doesn’t keep giving us the evil eye...”

“I think we should check English,” Chii countered, shrugging slightly. “Mrs. Mittel, I think, would take ten points for an awkwardly worded sentence.”

“Like that one?” Mangle teased, grinning at their friend. Chii snorted and waved her hand dismissively.

“Hey guys, do you think it’s worth the zero for me to write an entire essay in Spanish, just to mess with her?” Blu asked with a small grin.

“If you do that, I’ll write the same _exact_ essay in French,” Mangle grinned, and the other three just rolled their eyes.

“Probably not but one zero won’t completely decimate your grade,” Spring reasoned with a shrug. “If you do, though, don’t do it on a _major_ essay. Or group project. Get a zero on any of those and you will absolutely _destroy_ your grade.”

“Journal entry,” Alfred suggested and Blu nodded thoughtfully in response.

“Point, point,” he agreed. “Man, you guys should learn a second language just so you can do that, too.”

Chii laughed and shook her head. “Sorry,” she started, “but I don’t think ten months is _nearly_ enough time for us to learn how to fluently speak a second language.”

“Then write the entry or essay and we’ll translate,” Mangle suggested, grinning. “Ooh, we can even switch off- one paragraph in Spanish, the other in French! Mrs. Mittel won’t know what the fuck is goin’ on.”

“I think it’d look suspicious if all five of us did that,” Spring deadpanned, though his lips were turned up in a slight grin. Obviously he found the thought more amusing than he was willing to admit. “We’ll see if you can manage to convince us before school’s over.”

“Downgrade it to a simple homework assignment and _maybe,”_ Chii added as she pulled a notebook out.

“Aw, but that’s boring,” Blu whined jokingly, eyes sparking. “How about a final exam?”

“Oh _hell_ no,” Alfred snorted, reaching across Spring to flick the giggling rabbit’s ear. Blu stuck his tongue out at the bear. “Besides, that’s in-class.”

“Ah well,” Mangle chuckled, sitting up and picking their bookbag up onto their lap. It occurred to them that they had none of the books they needed that day, but they figured they’d be fine... maybe. Hopefully. “We didn’t even have anything for Mrs. Mittel, anyway, Chii, so let’s check over math.”

“Oh yeah... I’m so used to having lines,” Chii laughed, shaking her head. “Right. Math it is!”

Man, did Mangle love their silly little family...

* * *

The fox glanced up towards the passing teacher, hoping he would stop and explain the equation to them- step-by-step, preferably- but the teacher hardly glanced at them- _he’s sneering, what the hell-_ before simply moving on. Mangle frowned, watching the teacher stop at someone else’s desk to help.

_Oh no, you’re one of_ those _people, aren’t you? Well fuck you too, Mr. Fueller,_ they decided, simply dropping their pencil and leaning on their hand. _I don’t know what I’m doing._

A cursory glance around the classroom showed that very few people were actually trying to do the worksheet; Alfred was still trying, though a sharp frown and a displeased crease of his brow told Mangle that he was _not_ happy about it. Behind him Chii was simply twirling her pencil and staring blankly at the worksheet, and behind her Spring just seemed completely lost.

Another sweep around the classroom showed Henderson leaning back in his seat, glaring angrily towards the teacher- _well someone’s frustrated-_ and more than a few students with their heads down on their desks.

_I have the feeling someone is going to be complaining about this guy,_ Mangle thought, turning back to the board in front of the classroom. Mr. Fueller continued to ignore them. _Maybe I’ll have a talk with Spring about dropping this bullshit class, we can take calculus instead..._

Since doing the classwork without their textbook to assist them, Mangle simply closed their eyes and listened to the sounds around; the low murmuring of their teacher, a frustrated growl in the back, pencils across paper... _Now wouldn’t it be nice to just sit here and forget..._

The bell ringing broke through their thoughts, and they opened their eyes to watch as most of the class leapt out of their seats and raced towards the door. A collision outside immediately prompted a fight and Mangle sighed, standing up out of their seat. The Fazcrew made their way towards the door and Mangle turned around and headed towards Alfred’s desk.

When they reached the bear’s desk, they leaned on it with a heavy sigh. “First week of school,” they started, “and there’s already a fight. It’s like this place is full of brutes.”

“Give them a break, Mangle,” Spring started, looking over at them. “They’re just letting off steam.”

Spring was the last person Mangle knew who would defend people getting into fights, so it seemed strange to Mangle that he would call two guys punching each other “letting off steam.” They started to point that out, but then there was a fleshy _smack_ from across the room.

“Ow!”

Startled, Mangle turned around to look over at Jones, who was holding his nose. Henderson was laughing and one of the Fazbears was smirking, and Sanchez looked _very_ exasperated, the fox noticed.

“Stop laughin’!” Jones growled to his rabbit friend.

“Never!” the rabbit responded with no hesitance. However, Mangle noted, he seemed to have accrued some bad karma; he had hardly taken three steps forwards when his feet got caught and he went tumbling down.

It would have been funny... if Mangle didn’t see Henderson’s arm collide _very_ painfully with the desks and the beams underneath- how he managed _that_ one, Mangle decided to just chalk it up to luck.

Without even thinking about it, Mangle grabbed their own wrist, the day they’d lost it _very_ clear in their mind. They glanced towards the ceiling tiles, reminding themselves that _it wasn’t like that, stop..._

They could remember those hands shoving them roughly to and holding them against the cold tiled floor, their own hand slamming down on something sharp and metal and _painful it hurt so bad daddy why please stop_ more than a few times, and that knife... that knife-

Their breath hitched. _No no no, stop thinking about it, Mangle, it’s in the past now, the past... Think about... your friends, your friends, they’re here and they know and they keep you safe, it’s okay now..._

_Saturday we’ll go down to the park and play War by the Water, have a good picnic with cake and sandwiches and soda, play some music, and just enjoy the last bits of our youth while we can-_

_Gah! Happy, Mangle, happy! Imagine it- Blu and Spring playing their guitars, Alfred and Chii singing, you just soaking in the peace, Plushie running around and playing and sometimes coming back over for a sip of his juice- your makeup is going to get absolutely ruined and you’re gonna love every second of it, just laughing and enjoying the moment... maybe we’ll convince Alfred to try out makeup, himself- probably not, he’ll threaten to shove us out a window again..._

_Then we’ll set up a tent in Spring’s back yard and just camp out... with lots of blankets and pillows and s’mores-_

“-Mangle and me, though.”

The sound of their name pulled the fox out of their thoughts, and they realized that they were- _in English?_

Not exactly sure when or how that happened, they turned to their friends. “Huh?” they started, hoping their confusion would be understood.

Blu simply answered with, “Mr. Fueller.”

Instantly, the fox understood. “Oh yeah,” they started, glancing towards the ceiling, “he actually sneered at me.” Huffing softly, Mangle added, “I don’t think he likes immigrants.”

“I’m not an immigrant, though,” Blu immediately pointed out. Mangle resisted the urge to roll their eyes.

“Yeah,” they agreed, “but your parents are. And your name is _very_ Spanish,” the fox added matter-of-factly, “so-”

“Excuse me, you five,” an annoyingly nasal voice cut in, irritation more than slightly audible, and Mangle winced, turning their gaze towards the teacher in the front. “Class has begun."

_I did not know the bell rang..._

“Sorry!” Chii responded almost instantly, and just like that their conversation was over. Breathing out, Mangle settled down and began balancing their pencil on their right hand.

Might as well entertain themself...

* * *

Mangle frowned and closed their right eye, tilting their head at the still-life. Sure, closing their eye didn’t exactly _do_ anything, but it felt better to them if they at least _looked_ the part. With care, they proceeded to put the pencil against the page- it was much harder than it looked when you only had one functioning eye- and began sketching out the image they saw.

Of course, the fox was used to the problems that generally came with being half-blind; they had almost mastered mentally substituting the image they would have seen with their right eye, and even if every now and then they leaned too close or bumped their forehead they mostly had it under control.

With a satisfied little grin, now that they could feel their way around the page they began sketching, their eyes flicking between their work and the still life, taking in the angles and curves. They concentrated on the outline remembering that _you are not drawing the still-life, you are drawing the negative space._ Negative space- it was somewhat of a confusing concept to them, but-

Across the room, Jones tripped right over Sanchez’s easel and stumbled, falling down. Mangle watched with growing horror as his pencils and brush scattered across the floor...

And the cup of ink shatter on the ground, sending ink flying up and across.

_If I get anything on my fur my parents will absolutely_ murder _me! Fuck!_

With that thought in mind, they dropped their pencil onto the easel and leapt out of the line of fire- and, somehow, they found themself on the counter in their little corner of the room.

Turning around, Mangle saw Chii hiding behind Spring and Blu standing near the back table, almost right next to Marion. Alfred was attempting to wipe ink off of his arm while Spring just looked down at his ink-splattered shirt. Mangle glanced at their easels; a bit of ink had hit Spring’s page, but Alfred, Chii, and Blu’s own easels were turned in a way that protected the pages from the offending liquid.

Mangle’s page wasn’t so lucky.

_Man, that ink really splattered,_ they thought, grinning slightly as Spring turned to look at the shorter bear. His green shirt had spidery black tendrils of ink extending from a splotch, and there was a whip-like mark going up his cheek and right over his eye. He gave no indication of discomfort, so Mangle guessed that he had blinked in time to avoid getting blinded. _If I had to guess, it’s ‘cause of the way the cup hit the floor..._

“Hey, Al,” Spring started, pointedly ignoring the hyena-like laugh from the head cheerleader, “you got a little somethin’ on your shirt.”

Alfred simply smirked at their friend and tapped his cheek. _Yeah, well, you got somethin’ on your face,_ that gesture stated, and Spring’s eyes widened. His hand flew up to his cheek, just barely touching the ink setting into his fur, and Mangle opened their mouth to say something.

“Well, _Springtrap,”_ another voice interrupted, and Mangle’s gaze- as well as more than a few others’, they noticed- snapped over to the blonde cheerleader in the room. She was leaning against her easel and giving them all a cocky little smirk. “Now you’ve got something to match that ugly scar, huh?”

_Oh no you did not._

Immediately, Mangle was back at their friends’ sides, as were Blu and Chii, and they glared darkly at the human. She didn’t seem very aware that she had just crossed a boundary- a boundary that none of them accepted.

Honestly, it was a big reason the whole “Fazcrew versus us” thing began; _Springtrap._ Spring’s scars were not a tool. The only saving grace that the Fazcrew had was that they _never_ said anything about the scars.

In fact, they never spoke directly to them anyway.

“Yeah,” Blu started suddenly, “But it would match _so_ much better with your dead black heart.”

“If she even has one,” Mangle scoffed before they could stop themself, smirking in satisfaction as Creol’s face turned an interesting shade of red.

“True,” Blu agreed, his eyes never moving from their opponent. “Someone like her is nothing but an empty husk, anyway, feeding off of everyone else’s misery.”

Creol’s eyes flashed dangerously and she stood up straight, her pretty pink lips twisting into a snarl. “What did you just say, you Mexican fuck?!”

Mangle just barely caught Sanchez’s eyes narrowing at Creol. _Actually, Creol, the Mexican is on_ your _side. Your opponent of wits, of which you obviously have none to battle with, is a Spaniard. Methinks ye lost an ally, ye wench!_

“For the record,” Blu deadpanned, “I’m Spanish, not Mexican! Learn geography!”

_And logic._

“Whatever,” Creol sniffed, shifting her weight and propping out a leg as she turned her nose up, looking at her incredibly fake lavender nails. She was the perfect picture of a haughty rich girl, and Mangle was torn between laughing at how miserable a person she was compared to the millionaire in the room and clawing her _fucking eyes out._ “You still speak a stupid language, anyway.”

_Well Blu ain’t gonna stand for that._

The blue rabbit started forwards, snarling at the human, but Spring quickly caught his shoulder. “Oh please,” Blu started, not fighting against Spring’s grip, “at least Spanish makes _sense,_ English is so weird- it’s an amalgamation of different languages.” Before anyone could retort, Blu’s eyes widened and he covered his mouth in mock horror, saying, “Oops, sorry, I forgot- bimbos don’t know big words like amalgamation!”

Mangle had to bite back a laugh as the cheerleader’s face turned an almost deathly shade of purple-ish red. Across the room, most everyone wore faces of shock or displeasure, but a few even looked amused.

Creol, at the very least, was _not_ amused as she reared up, glaring daggers at Blu, and started, “I will-”

Whatever she was about to say they never found out as, at that moment, Mr. Smith swooped in with an angered flush and cried, “That’s enough, you two! Act your age, all of you!”

Immediately both Blu and Creol backed down, eying the teacher warily.

“Sorry, Mr. Smith,” Spring immediately protested, pulling Blu back towards himself. “Won’t happen again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Blu muttered, but he went ignored. Mangle glared towards Creol again.

“Get back to work, all of you,” Mr. Smith commanded, looking around at all of the students. “Mr. Salvage, Mr. Fischbach, if you need to go home and change clothes, you’re excused.”

_As if,_ Mangle silently snorted, glancing towards the ceiling. They knew damn well there was no way Spring or Alfred would go home.

“No more accidents, Mr. Jones.”

“R-right, got it.”

Mangle turned their gaze back towards Mr. Smith and the nervous fox as the human glanced around. “Ms. Sanchez,” he started, looking towards the chicken in question, “secure your backerboard properly, and Ms. Creol, _easels are not for leaning!_ You break it, you pay the damages fee, got it? Mr. Fazbear, get that smirk off your face, and Ms. Sanchez, whatever you’re about to say; _don’t.”_

No one said anything as the teacher stalked away, and they simply returned to what they had been doing before. Jones quickly began cleaning up his mess, but Mangle pointedly ignored him, choosing instead to turn back to their work.

_“For the record, Creol, Spanish is my first language. And I was_ born _in Mexico.”_

The mutter just barely made it to Mangle’s ears. The chicken’s tone was cold and clearly unhappy, and Mangle just barely resisted a smirk.

_Go ahead and isolate yourself,_ they thought, sketching out the scene in front of them. _Then we don’t have to deal with you anymore._

Maybe, they considered, there _was_ someone out there, besides their and their friends' parents, who was worse than the Fazcrew.

Maybe.

* * *

Mangle sighed softly and stretched, glancing at the driveway. “Thanks for the ride, Spring,” Mangle started, turning to look at their friend. Spring was watching them worriedly. “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s not problem,” Spring assured them. “Be safe, please.”

“I will,” Mangle lied, giving Spring a smile. The golden rabbit didn’t return their smile; he knew it was a lie just as much as Mangle did. Mangle had no control over anything, after all. “Don’t worry, it won’t be any worse than usual.”

Spring let out a breath and unlocked the doors. The fox’s words offered no comfort.

“Seeya tomorrow, Mangle.”

“Seeya, Springy.” Mangle slid out of the car and hitched their bag up on their shoulder, looking down the dirt driveway. “Take care yourself,” they added before closing the door and heading down the path.

When they reached the bend around the copse of trees and walked out of sight, they heard Spring’s car finally pull away, and Mangle’s heart broke knowing just how worried Spring was for their safety.

It broke, knowing that he couldn’t do anything to help them, no matter how he felt like he _should._

The fox sighed and paused, looking at the house that had been “home” for their entire life.

Two floors with a deck off of a sitting room, the white paint of the cabin had begun chipping away many years before, and a tree stood proudly next to the sad house. Mangle’s family wasn’t well off, but they weren’t struggling like Blu and Alfred’s families were.

No, their parents turned quite a profit, actually.

Taking a steadying breath, Mangle approached the house. The sun had long since lowered behind the trees but the shadows it cast across the darkened yard, onto the house that would never be a home... it sent chills up and down Mangle’s spine.

Already they were preparing a fantasy for themself as they, as quickly and carefully as possible, climbed the stairs to the deck and snuck across to the door there. A look in through the glass showed them that neither their mother nor father were in the sitting room, so they slowly slid the door open, wincing at every little creak and groan it made.

When the door was cracked open wide enough, they slipped inside and closed it again. There were no sounds in the house, which Mangle silently thanked god for, and the fox made their way down the hallway and towards their bedroom door.

Their bedroom door opened easily enough and they started inside, but then they froze.

Sitting there on their bed was their mother and father.

Their breath hitched in their throat as two pairs of piercing gold eyes stared straight into them. The arctic fox stood up and Mangle noticed the thin tendrils hanging down from his hand.

_The whip,_ they immediately realized, eyes widening and stumbling back into the hallway.

“Where were you last night?” the light-purple and grey vixen demanded, standing as well to tower over her child. “You know the rules- we let you go where you want in the day and you come home at night to do your damn job!”

“Ungrateful little faggot,” their father snarled, approaching Mangle. “We feed you, raise you, give you a home and you repay us like this?!”

_Like what?! I’m home!_ Mangle thought desperately, feeling their back hit the wall. _I didn’t do anything!_

“You had an appointment last night!” the arctic fox suddenly yelled, reaching forward and grabbing Mangle by the ear. Mangle yelped as their father dragged them forward and threw them to the ground- by their ear. “Two! But you didn’t show up and wouldn’t even answer your _fucking phone!”_

“After everything we’ve done for you,” their mother tsked, and Mangle risked pushing themself up onto their knees to look up at her.

She stared coldly down at them, her arms crossed and her heeled foot dangerously close to Mangle’s left hand. “I swear, you’ll put us in an early grave with this attitude of yours, and where will that leave you, Vivien?” she demanded, staring at them. Mangle refused to speak, instead turning their eyes elsewhere. “Answer the goddamned question, Vivien!”

They felt a foot collide with their back and then they were on the floor again, the wind knocked out of them.

“When your mother speaks to you, show her your respect, you ungrateful little brat,” their father hissed, putting his weight on the foot on Mangle’s back. Mangle grimaced, feeling their back pop- and not in a good way.

Their father’s steel-toed boots were _really_ painful.

“Tell me, Vivien, where would you be without us?” their mother repeated, and Mangle felt the tip of her shoe slide under their chin. She forced the teen to look up at them. Mangle clenched their teeth, glaring up at the vixen but not daring to bare their teeth at her. “Answer me, _whore.”_

_Whore._

Mangle flinched. What else could they do? Their parents wouldn’t relent until they gave in and answered her demands...

“On the streets, starving, freezing and dying,” Mangle bit out, ears flattening as they stared up at the woman who should have rightfully meant so much to them.

All she meant was pain.

“Good boy,” the vixen chuckled, kicking her foot upwards and causing Mangle’s sharp teeth to clack painfully together. Mangle started to growl, but their mother’s foot landing very purposefully on their hand caused the fox to yelp instead. “Oops,” their mother started dryly, unapologetically, as she moved her foot away from Mangle’s hand. “Now your papa’s gonna give you your punishment. And remember, my sweet- you brought this on yourself.”

With that, the vixen sauntered out of the room, her heels clicking against the wood almost daintily. She slammed the door shut and the fox removed his foot from mangle’s back.

It wasn’t much of a relief to Mangle; they felt their father grab their arm and haul them to their feet. Mangle bit their lip, knowing it would only be worse if they protested, and allowed the larger fox to shove them against the wall. They pressed their face to the wall, closing their eyes tightly; they wanted to be anywhere but there.

The older fox yanked their shirt up and their pants down, and Mangle realized at that moment just how _damn it’s cold in here..._

They breathed in sharply when the whip was brought down on them- hard and fast and stinging painfully, first on their back and then on their butt. Biting their tongue to keep from crying out- honestly, they were so used to the whip they didn’t know _why_ they couldn’t just _take it_ still- the young fox forced their mind to drift away. Mangle didn’t know how long they would be “punished” for, but they knew they didn’t want to be there for it.

So, even as the whip left thin, bleeding tendrils on their skin, Mangle concentrated on the upcoming weekend again. They grasped at their plans almost desperately, doing their best to push their reality away- to pretend that things weren’t falling apart, to pretend like they would be able to comfortably sit down tomorrow, to pretend like agony wasn’t being sent through their body...

They just wanted to pretend to be normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you’re demented like I am, why stop at physical abuse, substance abuse, sexual abuse, forced prostitution (if you hadn’t caught on to that one yet...) and rape when I can go the whole nine yards with creepy pedophiles, psychological abuse, humiliation and mental manipulation thrown into the mix?
> 
> ... Really, is it any surprise that Mangle dissociates? They’ve literally got the worst of the worst here... even if their parents didn’t slam a bottle into their face.


End file.
